Counting the Beats
by sweetlemongrass
Summary: Corvenus had 3 sons, Markus, William, and Caius. Now, in the 21st century, Caius is preparing for an all out immortal war. When the other immortals find out, they realize they have to fight back, or die. But Love changes even the coldest of hearts.
1. Reunion

**I don't own Underworld, which would make my life if I did, or Twilight. Which I would burn, twice.**

1. Reunion

The damp streets and cold air made the worn street looked even more depressing and dead. Footsteps were a rarity here. Once or twice in an hour you could hear the anxious pace of someone rushing to get out of this wretched place. Once, in a very distant past, this carcass of a city had been the center of a bustling metropolis. But now, it hardly barred a dark semblance to the place it used to be. Now it served as a warning to the future generations living around this area of how things change for the worse so easily.

And yet, Sonja waited. Here. In this mask of a city, for there was nothing left within its crumbling walls, she waited. For it was the only place to be truly alone. And to hold meetings of the cautious nature. It was the only place that no one would look for her. She had only told two other souls of where she would be, if she weren't to return. The "man" she was meeting and Selene; a Death Dealer she had come to consider a friend, and confidant. A small part of her thought that this would be her last night on earth. She had seen many a century of nights such as this one. But never here.

The only way she would ever think of stepping onto this abandoned square kilometer, that had been abandoned so long ago because no one wanted to think of the horrors that would appear if they even thought of removing one brick from a structure, was to meet with him.

_Him_. He was the very incarnation of her worst horrors and the incarnation of her entire species' horrors. She had only agreed to this dangerous conference so that she would get the chance to end her horrors. To end Him.

She looked around her. On every one of her sides, there was a wall. Cold, dark and crumbling walls. A single window allowed entry for her and for a gentle film of moonlight to coat the entire room with light. Any human would be blind this close to complete darkness, but she could see just as well if it was mid-day. But this wasn't human's affair. And it was the middle of the night in a strange place where she wasn't top of the food chain anymore.

Sonja felt the dagger in her boot, rubbing her calf against it. Its cold silver blade gave her a dark hope. That she would be able to kill this master of nightmares tonight. If she kept her head on straight, he won't be able to beguile her so she lost her chance to use it. She had gone through every scenario in her mind that she could think of. If he charges her, throw the knife into his heart. He talks for a while then grabs her, stab his side and puncture his beastly lungs. If all else fails, run; even into daylight.

Hopefully, Sonja thought, the sun doesn't shine though the depression over this place.

God knows it would not be her saving grace.

Then he was there. There was no warning, no ominous swish through the air. She hadn't even turned around to face him.

But he was there. She felt him through her very skin.

_He_ was there.

Suddenly, that dagger in her boot was feeling pretty insignificant. She was scared. Sonja, the elder, the death dealer, the warrior was scared.

To death.

But her father had taught her to never give into terror. Even in the presence of such a monster.

Gingerly but gracefully, she turned to meet the master of her fear. What lied before her eyes was something that she could have never expected. A man with long hair tied in a loose ponytail and a fire in his green eyes was leaning against one of the dilapidated walls. He was clad in a long leather jacket and simple pants and boots. Not unlike her own clothing, except she was wearing a bullet-resistant corset and a similar jumpsuit.

Her breath caught, he was staring at her with such a passion she knew nothing good would come of this meeting; a meeting which she still needed to be informed of the agenda.

Almost as gingerly as she had trod a moment ago, he took small steps toward. The blade in her boot would feel a lot better if it were in her hand. But he stopped inching towards her before that urge became to powerful.

"Don't be afraid." He voice was gentle yet held a power to it that gave credit to his reputation. Unfortunately, it did nothing to calm her nerves down. They seemed to be dancing to the beat of her nightmares.

"Please, this a diplomatic confluence. Nothing else." A new element was added to his voice. But Sonja refused to recognize it. She couldn't believe that he of all people could hold a note of desperation in his voice when he was so obviously in control.

"Can I trust you, Lucien?" She knew she wouldn't; couldn't trust him either way he responded. It was merely a formality. Lucien only responded with a tired grin. That was even more unnerving to Sonja. She just wanted to get this meeting over with.

"What is the meaning of this, confluence?" She thanked god that her voice had held. Any moment she would start trembling.

Why am I so scared? She asked herself.

I've fought against William's brood before. Lucien was certainly more human than they.

Lucien shrugged. It was a strange thing to witness Lucien of all people shrug.

"It's whatever may come of it." Sonja was confused. Staring at him through narrowed eyes she nearly whispered,

"You mean to say that you ask me here, Viktor's daughter, an elder, to chat?" Rage had long since replaced every fiber of fear in her body. She was risking her life, her council seat, her father's trust and her sanity just to talk with a mangy animal! But Lucien kept his face just as taunt as it ever was. The only thing that gave him away was his eyes. They went from a tired stare to a dead gaze. He immediately stood up and turned to face the wall that he originally leaned on. Sonja was perturbed by this reaction. Thinking he was going to attack, she reached for her knife. But she had not even moved her hand when he asked,

"Don't you think it's a little outdated to still be carrying around knives this day and age?"

Her entire body froze. Yes, it was outdated to still rely on a dagger for protection in the twenty-first century but a gun would be a bit too obvious for this kind of occasion. Discretion was an understatement to how this "meeting" should be handled. And Sonja was still floating in her rage filled confusion of the ambivalent way Lucien handled their meeting. They were immortal enemies, high on each other's hit list.

Sonja sighed. She really wanted this experience to be long forgotten before the sun rose.

"Just tell me why I'm here."

Lucien turned around. Fear etched in his face. Sonja was becoming increasing disturbed by the difference of all her preconceived notions about the infamous Lycan Lord and his actual nature.

"Caius is becoming a problem." His voice retained none of the levity that was so prominent in his previous behavior.

Sonja stared at Lucien for a long while, before bursting out laughing. The fire burned hotter in his eyes.

"You think this is a joke?" Now Lucien was just as troubled as Sonja had been a moment ago.

Finally, Sonja was able to compose herself.

"No, not at all." She broke into a grin. "It's just that, he's always been a problem. He and his "diamond" vampires. Hardly worth paying attention to anymore." Sonja thought that that was the end of the discussion; she was now free to leave. But as she turned to fall through the window, Lucien lunged at her arm and caught her in mid-stride. Sonja stared at the Lycan that was now on her.

"Get off, you dog!" Desperation soaked out of Lucien's eyes.

"No! You don't understand! Caius wants to overthrow the Coven!" Now Sonja's eyes leached the same desperation that echoed in Lucien's. She felt like she couldn't breathe, like sunlight had found some way into her heart, and burnt away everything within those immortal walls with those destructive and deadly rays.

"What?" Sonja stumbled back onto the damp, rotting floor. Just as she was going to hit the ground a pair of strong arms caught her. For the moment it could have been a wolf from William's brood, her father, or even Lucien that held her millimeters above the floor. Caius wanted to overthrow the Coven. He wanted to overthrow a millennia and a half of tradition and rites. Her world just spun out of control.

"Sonja, are you okay?" A gentle, strong voice brought her out of the worst case scenario building in her head. There was a more important matter to be dealt with at the moment. Sonja jumped to her feet and threw the Lycan to the ground.

"How dare you touch me!" Sonja had pulled the dagger out of her boot and was advancing on Lucien.

"Please, Sonja! Stop!" Lucien cried, but the vampire Elder was intent on the kill. And Lucien was too damn tired to even try to stop her. Sonja grabbed the pathetic man by the throat and was about to impale him on the small blade.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Lucien breathed. Surprised, Sonja decided to hear the man out. For a while; boredom was not common in the Coven but it was known to drive some vampires to murder. So she decided to make this a little bit of a game.

"Remember what?" She said in playful tone. But Lucien's face was as serious as stone.

"All the fun we had as children. I was your little pet." Sonja's jocose manner was lost as she saw the obvious nostalgia occurring within Lucien. She tensed but completely forgot about the dagger in her hand and on Lucien's stomach.

"They were some of the best times of my life. Slavery seemed bearable around you."

My god, Sonja thought, Lucien is infatuated with me. She remembered the dagger and thrust it onto his throat.

"Don't even think of enticing me with your lies, fiend." Sonja had meant to fill the almost dead man with fear but when his dry lips turned up into a weary smile, she knew something was horribly wrong. The worst part was that the horrid feeling was coming from inside her.

"Are you to kill one of your allies when one of the greatest immortal wars is on the horizon?"

Shocked, Sonja thrust the dagger further into Lucien's neck.

"So you are my ally now?" Lucien gasped a dry and throaty chuckle.

"I always was…"

Sonja had had enough. Her time was more important to deal with such a creature. She started to make the gleaming silver blade cut through Lucien's skin but she never got the chance to smell his noxious blood. He was gone.

"Dammit." She would have gone looking for the mysterious Lycan but his games were beginning to tire her, and sunrise was coming.

Sunrise, she thought with a bitter tang to it. She had never seen the daylight, to do so was suicide. Sonja stood absolutely still for just a moment before disappearing into the urban wasteland below just as quickly as Lucien had.

She fell out of the window and landed on the cobblestone road with hardly a sound. Now it was her footsteps being heard rushing away from this place. She took one last look around her.

Nothing but crumbling buildings and broken dreams, She thought. And yet, she felt something stir within her. If felt like a memory but she couldn't be sure. It was so vague, so long ago. But the Lycan was in it. That fact alone should have terrified her, but the thing that really scared her was that there was no fear tied to this stirring. It was pleasant one. And that should not, could not and never would be a good thing.

Trying to shake off this horrid realization, Sonja walked over to her car. It was black as the new moon and had tinted windshields so that if she were ever late to the Coven she would be safe from the sun's deadly rays. And from the looks of the dawning sun, it was a very good thing to have those shields. She drove off leaving the gray of dawn behind her, but Lucien was burned into her mind as much as the sun would have been.

Lucien stared out over the city that had become his Lycan headquarters. Unbeknownst to either vampire Covens, this place was actually very alive. There were lookouts stationed in almost every building; who were given warning of the vampire's entrance, and told not to kill.

Just like when they were children, all those centuries before, Lucien watched as Sonja raced out of his fortress, away from him. A familiar sadness washed over him as the dawning light chased the Vampire Elder out of his domain.

"I love you, Sonja." was all he could whisper to her fleeting form.

Only the wind answered his melancholy call.


	2. Preparation

2. Preparation

Caius and Markus –

"What are you saying?" Caius' cold voice contrasted greatly with Markus' energetic nature and volatile behavior.

"I'm saying that you are talking about an all out war! With both the Lycans and the Death Dealers! Not to mention our brother's Brood." Markus didn't understand Caius' adamant nature about becoming more powerful than he already was. He had already banished nearly half the family to different corners of the earth and no one really knew where father was. Markus on the other hand, was the only surviving member of his direct family to not have a death warrant on his head. And for that he was grateful.

"Yes, I am." Caius remained quite placid in demeanor even though this was an issue to hold with the utmost concern.

"And how, brother, can we even think of returning from this conflict alive?" Caius' face distorted into one of disbelief and then quickly into one of darkest and most bloodthirsty looks Markus had ever seen. If Markus had not seen lesser bloodthirsty looks of his brother, he would have crumpled on the floor right where he stood. But the times had changed. Warfare was not so much who had the most power anymore but who had the better tactics.

Then Caius disappeared from HIS stone throne in the middle of HIS throne room. The next thing Markus knew Caius was holding him by the shoulders, applying just the right amount of pressure to make Markus wince in pain. Caius always did this to show that he was physically more powerful than anyone on earth or heaven. Or hell, which is where Markus considered himself to be in now. However, Markus never told Caius that he could always and always could see him while he was running. It was all part of Markus' plan.

Caius suddenly reappeared behind Markus' other shoulder. Markus flared his nostrils as the disgusting scent of his brother invaded his nose.

And he fancies himself to be the eldest, Markus thought bitterly. Even though Markus himself was the eldest and Caius was actually the youngest of the three brothers. But Markus swallowed his pride as his brother's even more disgusting voice pierced his eardrum.

"Am I not the strongest of us all?" He disappeared back to his throne in another effort to demonstrate his power. Markus was seething in his pig-headed brother's ignorance of his own strength. Markus was the first vampire and even turned Caius, as he was just a human when HE was born. But Markus and William were born immortal, and that made Caius jealous.

So one day, about a decade after William and Markus had lost their humanity, Caius wandered up to his big brother and started bragging Markus on how even the virus, which gave Markus his present form, could not harm him. Markus was reluctant on being goaded by his little brother, but soon enough Caius claimed he was stronger than Corvenus and much stronger than Markus and William combined. That snapped Markus and, in the blink of an eye, he had latched on to Caius' throat and was sucking the life out of him.

When he finally let go, the virus ravaged Caius' system, and killed him. But he wasn't destroyed before he was turned into the first diamond vampire; an abomination in his entire family's eyes.

After that everything went to hell. Caius seemed impervious to any blade and sunlight had no effect on his skin. Except that it danced wildly across his skin's gleaming surface. It was only after Caius had taken the throne from Corvenus and banished William to the furthest corner of the earth, did Markus find out of his kind's weakness to fire. And that was only because one of his brother's friends tripped, in a drunken state, and lit himself on fire. After they doused the blaze, all that was left was a pile of noxious smelling ashes. That day was the day that Markus came up with his plan.

Now, centuries later, Markus finally had a chance to send that plan into a full scale coup. Markus had long since begun working with the Death Dealers, where he believed he truly belonged, not to Voltura. And Caius was hardly hospitable to the Lycans and soon, unintentionally, they joined ranks with those against Caius.

Markus had to focus everything he had in him not to smile at his foolish brother's ignorance; who sat atop that stone throne, calcifying. While Markus blossomed inside. His kind of vampire could lay dormant for literally thousands of years, with no lasting side effects. But Caius' skin was becoming brittle and his eyes had acquired a milky film over his cornea. Soon, Markus' time would come. But not yet.

Markus gave a deep, sweeping bow as he tried to display his façade of devotion. Caius' frail lips lifted into an evil smile. As Markus was walking out of the throne hall, Caius remarked,

"I am."

Rage flooded Markus' bloodstream. The arrogant bastard was going too far for Markus' tastes. Markus swore on his slowly beating heart that the white-haired tyrant would pay for his transgressions with his head. But there were things to do to make that future a certainty.

Being the first vampire, Markus had inherited part of the bat's form, and opened his fleshy wings to take to the skies.

He flew through the night until he saw what he was looking for, a seemingly abandoned dump for a city. Markus flew straight into one of the crumpling structures and landed silently on the rotting floor.

The room he flew into looked like an office. It had a desk, cabinets and chairs. But throughout the rooms guns cluttered every open space. Markus didn't like guns, they were too noisy but he knew that the Lycans had produced a special bullet, crafted especially for vampire hunting. The Lycans had indeed proved to be helpful tool and a powerful ally in this plot. Markus folded his wings and started wandering around the Alpha Lycan's office. It was a clean place. But it showed obvious wear and tear. A sign of use. Everything back in Italy was so clean, not because they tried to keep a clean house, but that everything was so slow in their world. Markus was so much happier in the Death Dealer's world; where there was always something to do.

Finally Markus grew drained and fell into one of the chairs. They smelled a little of wet dog, but anything was better than diamond vampire. Not only was Markus tired but he was exhausted. He had stayed up for nearly four days, trying to hold this plan together, the time was soon arriving. The Death Dealers had learned of Caius' war through Tanis, Markus' dutiful informant (for a price), and the Lycans were more than happy to assist in ending the reign of hateful and hated Caius. Feeling content with how the world was turning for once in nearly a thousand years, he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

"Well, that went over great, Lucie…" Markus semi-heard as he slipped back into consciousness. There were quiet footsteps all around him and he wondered who would be in Lucien's room this time of…

Was it day or night? If it was night, he could still fly back home. But if it was day he'd have to stay in the company of Lycans all day.

At least they aren't Diamond Vampires, he thought with a sneer. After a good couple minutes of just relaxing, Markus finally opened his eyes. He was surprised to see it was Lucien himself who was doing menial tasks around him. Lucien seemed extremely troubled but continued on his unimportant busy-work.

Then he looked up from the papers on his desk to see Markus' intense blue eyes staring at him. His face seemed to relax a little but Lucien's passion-filled eyes burned hotter than ever before. Upon seeing Markus wake, Lucien pulled a weary smile to his lips.

"Ah, my friend, you are awake. Have you enjoyed your slumber?" Markus was astounded that Lucien had the hospitality to let him, an uninvited guest, sleep in his office and even to allow him his sleep while he made sure not to wake him. Surely there was more to this Lycan than the Death Dealers give him credit for.

Markus had been working with Lucien as well for a century or two, but he still did not know much about this man and wondered that if his plan came through, he might spend more time with him. But that would be after he returned to his bride. Ah, she was a wonder to behold. The world was so much better when he thought of her.

"I have. Thank you for that." Markus remarked. Lucien was all the happier to have one less vampire who wanted to tear his throat out. Or cut it in half.

He remembered the sizzling blade on his throat. He remembered the burn in Sonja's eyes. He remembered Sonja's merciless tone of voice. He remembered Sonja.

Shaking, Lucien dropped his papers on his desk and clutched his face in his hands.

Markus leaned towards Lucien and off the back of his chair that had served dutifully as his escape from the present tense and let him serve time within the realm of impossibility.

"What is of the matter, Lycan?"

Lucien held his tongue. He did not want to give any indication of his love for Sonja. Viktor would have his head, and probably the rest of his body as well. Although Markus was not Viktor, he was one of the four Death Dealer Elders.

The Elders that had been around when he was still Viktor's _pet_ had been assassinated in Kraven's uprising. Sonja had been the one who thrust the cold blade down the miserable underling's throat and through his even colder heart. That night had been centuries ago, that was the night when the rest of his kind had finally been freed from their captors. Lucien himself had infiltrated the vampire compound, along with Raze and a handful of others, and freed the rest of his fellow brethren, many who he remembered before his escape. He had also opened his arms to the refugees that flocked to his secret city, but he also gave them an ultimatum; never hunt around the cities, because there might be Death Dealers around every corner and never touch the female vampires or else you will be sent, leashed, to the very doorstep of the Coven.

He had explained the latter by saying that it could be Sonja or Amelia, and to hurt them, was to enrage the other Elders so horribly that their sanctuary would be found and destroyed. After a millennium of enslavement, no Lycan was willing to give up the feeling of safety this city had finally granted them. And today's demonstration of having an Elder within their walls and her not noticing how the barren kilometer was not so lifeless and desolate as she saw, sent the Lycan's spirits through the roof. But the actual reason Lucien didn't want the Lycans to attack any female vampires was solely because of Sonja. Her beauty has enraptured him but it was her independent spirit and strength that sealed his devotion to her. But he was a Lycan; an "indentured" servant to her father. He could only watch after her from afar, and to even think of confessing his love for her was suicide.

Unrequited love. It hurt more than fifty lashes from Viktor's brutal whip. It felt like his soul was caged with a million shackles and he could craft no key to undo a single lock. Only Sonja would free him from his heartache. And that was looking more like a hopeless situation by the second.

Meanwhile Markus watched Lucien's breakdown with a quizzical look on his face.

"Lucien?"

Markus' estranged voice shot Lucien back to reality. He looked up into the Elder's eyes and paused for a moment, remembering when Sonja was just a child. She didn't judge him then, they were only kids. But he wasn't staring at Sonja, or a child for that matter. His hands moved suddenly of their own accord, trying to recreate the charade of carrying on as normal. But it wasn't the same. He had held her; felt the slow heart beat through her chest. And her smell. It was like the morning dew after a rain. He gave up.

Markus watched with increasing interest as Lucien redropped his paperwork and slumped over to the chair opposite him. The worn leather seemed to envelop Lucien and he sunk further and further into the chair frame, until Markus wasn't sure this was the same Lycan that he had just been talking to. But then Lucien straightened up and put the blankest mask upon his face.

"I'm sorry, friend. What is the matter you have come to discuss?"

Markus let the suddenly erratic Lycan's behavior be forgotten and he too remembered he had not come simply for an after-midnight nap.

"The time has come." Lucien perked up and nearly forgot about Sonja.

"When?" Lucien's voice was anxious and almost exited.

"In a month's time." Markus nearly whispered.

The Lycan slowly rose from his chair and walked back over to his desk. He placed his hands down on it and thought.

Nearly a month. Is that so soon? In a month, this will be over... Lucien murmured to himself.

Well, Caius will be no more. That will be enough, for now. Lucien thought before returned to his chair and looked directly into Markus' eyes.

"Are the Death Dealers ready?" Lucien asked.

"I have given Tanis all the information he needs to convince Sonja that war is necessary."

So they are ready, Lucien thought. Sonja will lead them to battle and Caius will be no more.

"What's the plan?"

Markus smiled, nearly showing his razor sharp teeth.


	3. Tradition and Change

3. Tradition and Change

Carlisle and Michael-

Carlisle emerged from his office at the hospital. Dark circles around his eyes gave away is incredible thirst and, somehow, his exhaustion. Not that he would ever be graced from this turmoil by blessed sleep. Caius was being even more of a bother than usual. Carlisle was at breaking point. He had worked so hard to control his thirst and build as normal a life as he could. He was even married with a "child". Even though Jasper was nearing his 187th birthday. And now it seemed that everything might all fall apart under Caius' and the Coven's "watchful" eyes.

The pale walls and the fluorescent lighting along with all the extra stress he had to deal with were only adding to his ongoing struggle. Not that he could do much about that. His family was as supportive as always and both Voltura and the Coven were being as annoying as they always had been.

Carlisle's face exposed a smile; a tired, burdened smile.

Nothing ever changes. But why, Carlisle asked himself, did he have to bare the burden of Caius' wrath?

Caius was his sire, but a cruel and manipulative one. Now Caius was in the precarious position of being in the middle of the ongoing war between the other two immortal races. And the only person that Caius could safely take _his _stress out on was his own kind.

Carlisle personally blamed his own treatment on the Death Dealers and the Lycans.

"Lycans…" He spat. They were cruel beasts and even more manipulative than Caius. Not to mention that they were often filthy and flea-ridden bags of teeth and fur. But the Death Dealers were the worst. Them and their superior "council". They basically discussed the future of all immortals; often times without the "diamond" vampire's opinion. (Carlisle preferred to be referred to as a 2nd generation vampire). And the Lycans would be killed on sight for even approaching the Coven.

Like they should be…Carlisle thought. A mangy excuse for animals was all he thought of that breed of dog.

All Carlisle wanted was to just make up his sins and get on with life. That was it. That's why he was here. As head doctor of the Lindbarrow Hospital, Carlisle was currently out of surgery and for that, he was more than grateful. He had first started working as a doctor during the industrial revolution to atone for the lives he had taken. And right now he was wondering if tonight he would have one more casualty to atone for.

Thoughts of blood started to crowd his mind and the thirst burned even hotter than before. The sounds of people walking in and out of the corridors reminded him that blood was just one helpless human away.

Carlisle sighed, trying to get the human smell out of his system, and walked out of the hospital's main door and slunk over to a park across the street. Thank god it was cloudy; he hated being cooped up in that place whenever it was sunny. Almost happily, Carlisle took a seat on a bench and just watched the bustling activity of the patients and doctors who wanted to get out of the hospital. When he finally felt his stone body relax, he finally took a chance with another gulp of air.

The pain was nearly unbearable as his thirst flared to the level of a thousands suns. Pouring acid or bleach down a human's throat would have a similar effect to the sensation that Carlisle was experiencing right now. Carlisle immediately shoved his head between his legs, he was so hungry. He heard a new set of feet walking towards him from behind, but he thought nothing of it. He was far too hungry to be concerned with such trivial matters.

He cursed this state of his. But he was glad the Coven didn't have this level of hunger. If they did then people would be disappearing at too fast a rate for any immortal to stay in this city without drawing attention to them.

The 2nd generation of vampires had a stronger thirst then those of the original bloodline because when Markus bit Caius, Caius' body did the same thing to the virus that Corvenus had. It changed it; molded it, formed it to his body's preference. And so his skin became impenetrable and the sun could only dance across its surface. But the thirst was amplified to the point where Caius was no longer allowed into meetings with the nobles, he kept eating them. And that was not good publicity.

So that was how Carlisle lived, day after god damned day. Trying to abstain from his hunger to human blood. God knows he'd killed more lives in his existence than any human. But older immortals have killed more, and did it happily. He'd always held some level of guilt in his heart. Now he'd thrust himself into the most rewarding but most taxing occupation for one of his kind and for one with a burdened heart.

Carlisle stood up and was going to find some animal to drain right away, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He spun around and nearly dragged the offender the ground and started feeding on them, until he saw a resident's stunned face amid his blood-crazed haze.

Dammit, Carlisle scolded himself, I need to be more careful.

"Yes, Corvin?" Michael (Corvin) was wearing his street clothes, even though his shift wasn't up yet.

"Um… Harry gave me the rest of the night off and I just wanted to put it by you."

Uhg, just go, Carlisle pleaded to himself, Leave me alone.

Carlisle so badly needed to go to hunting tonight. Sonja would kill him if he even thought about touching the blood store.

"Yes, Corvin, that'd be fine." He had used up all of the air in his lungs. He wouldn't dare suck in another breath unless he wanted to risk the entire population of the hospital and the surrounding areas.

If the burn wasn't encasing the entirety of his throat, he would have gladly given Michael the rest of the weekend off, he was one of the best residents in Carlisle had ever hired, but he couldn't even force another word from his mouth.

He just nodded at the tired form before him and Michael walked away murmuring a genuine, but exhausted, thank you. Carlisle all but flew to his car and drove to the outskirts of town and then ditched it on a country road. He then finally allowed himself to breathe and he smelled so many things. There were birds in the budding trees; there were gophers and squirrels in the new planted fields. The most potent of scents lied within the wooded areas that littered the landscape. Carlisle ran to a particularly forested area and focused on the rawest and harshest blood of all the scents that entered his nose. Finally he found exactly what he was smelling for.

He ran through the thick underbrush as though it was a clean cut lawn, until the powerful musk was making him almost drool. Carlisle, the predator, not the doctor, flew from the ground and landed on the dog-sized weasel that had just emerged from its burrow.

The shocked animal did nothing as Carlisle buried his teeth through the fur-covered throat. When his marble teeth broke skin the wolverine started hissing and thrashing. But all was for not. Carlisle kept draining the creature. Its adrenaline soaked blood was all the sweeter and calmed the raging torrent in his throat. Finally the thrashing and struggling stopped as the wolverine gave one final grasp at life while Carlisle mercilessly drained it. The aggressive and violent creature tasted wonderful. Carlisle was proud of himself; he had just had a lovely meal and didn't hurt a single human in the process. The pile of fur at his feet was only an animal. Almost less than a Lycan.

Needing to go back to the hospital, Carlisle surveyed the damage to his clothing and nothing was too bad or noticeable. He rushed back to his car and drove back to the hospital. Carlisle was already late for the meeting. He ran up the stairs, dangerously fast, to his office and straightened any nonexistent wrinkle out of his coat and shirt. Deeply sighing, he opened the door with a plastered smile on his face, expecting Sonja. Instead, Tanis had come in her place.

Damn. Carlisle thought. He hated Tanis. Not for any specific reason but the man unnerved him. Like he always knew something he shouldn't. But Carlisle kept the fake smile up to please the strange vampire.

"Welcome, Tanis. Is the Coven in need of some refreshments?" Carlisle was good at acting, sometimes. And one of those times was not now. His smile was slipping.

Tanis put a grimace on his face.

"Yes, we need to increase the order." Carlisle's face almost broke.

"Increase the order? I'm already giving you guys 200 kiloliters every six months! You can hardly expect me to increase the order without getting us ALL exposed. Can you?"

Tanis nodded gravely and went to sit on Carlisle's desk. Carlisle hated that about Tanis too. He always treated everything like it was a chair. His desk, the back of his couch and even his walls could be converted to chairs and Tanis wouldn't notice a thing. If he wasn't so close to the other Elders, Carlisle would have gladly killed him by now. Carlisle didn't feel as bad when he killed the guilty of his kind rather than a defenseless human.

Tanis turned to Carlisle with a puzzled look on his face.

"Do you really want to feel Sonja's wrath?" If Carlisle was in any way human, his blood would have gone cold. Sonja took after her father in using punishment to teach a lesson. Also, she was like a niece to Caius. If Carlisle angered Sonja, he would anger Caius and his head would be off his body so fast he wouldn't know what happened until his head started bouncing. So Carlisle breathed out a defeated,

"No…"

A wicked smile slithered onto Tanis' thin lips.

"Good, now we can discuss what you can get way with WITHOUT exposing us all."

Michael was dutifully on his way home, trying not to fall asleep. But the lull that the city had put on him was making even that increasingly difficult. Dark clouds, coupled with dark streets and even darker looks on people faces made him what the hell he was doing here. Michael was feeling even more depressed now than he was just a minute ago.

In an attempt to make it back to his apartment faster, he turned off the usual sidewalk and into one of the many forested areas around the outskirts of town.

After walking for a good fifteen minutes, Michael could almost see his building ahead of a clearing that was about a five-hundred meters wide swath that he was about to step into. In front of his actual building there was some construction that had been shut down for quite a while now and there was known to be some drug warfare going on over there. But he didn't see anything and right now he was too tired to care, it was shorter than his usual route.

Then a pair of darkly clad figures came into his line of sight. They seemed to be talking to each other but they must have been talking about something very strange because on of the figures started taking off his coat. Before the, now half naked, person could do anything else, the other one whipped out a gun and let two round into the one's chest.

Michael immediately ducked under some sparse foliage, thinking it was a drug deal gone bust, and watched the rest of the confrontation from that position. His mouth dropped when he saw the stricken man stand up and pull the bullets out of him. Then his body started to tremor and convulse. Michael thought that the man was about to have a seizure but remained in his crouch from fear of the horrified other man who had a gun.

But then the convulsions started to physically alter his form. His skin darkened, his face elongated and his chest ballooned. Now Michael was as horrified as the other guy. When the "transformation" was over the thing looked much like a hairless, upright…dog.

"What the hell…" Michael breathed.

The dog-thing slashed the gun right out of the other man's hand and took no time in sinking his canine teeth directly into the other guy's neck. The man with his throat being ripped out was writhing in pain and screaming bloody murder, literally. There was lots of thrashing and grunting that made Michael almost throw up. Until there was no more screaming. The other guy simply fell limp.

When he stopped struggling, the dog-thing also stopped and immediately started convulsing again. Michael thought he would morph fully into something else entirely, but instead he reverted back to his human phase; complete with blood all over his chest and face.

Michael gasped. He had never thought that something that even looked like a human, even if it was part time, would be able to do such a thing. But then the dog-man-thing stared directly at the brush Michael was concealed in. Michael was even more confused; there was no way that any normal human could have heard him. But then he reminded himself that this thing clearly was not a normal human.

"Shit!" exclaimed Michael before he turned around and started tripping over the underbrush in the direction of his building. He was almost to the other side of the clearing and he was feeling pretty good that he might actually get out of this thing alive. But as his foot took one step onto actual pavement impossibly strong hands grabbed him and before he could fight back, he was hit across the face so hard he only felt blood come out of his mouth before there was nothing at all.

Grogginess enveloped every sense that Michael had, plus two. He could hardly hear anything, his eyes were too heavy to open and he didn't even remember what taste and smell were. His face hurt horribly and he was pretty sure his jaw was broken. Testing it out, he tried to move his jaw back and forth but searing pain flooded his lower face. He cried out. Yep, it was broken.

"Did you have to hit him that hard?" A distorted voice rang out through the horrible haze Michael was in.

"I had just killed a Death Dealer who shot me! I was a little more than excited!" Another voice answered the first one. A shudder shot through Michael when he heard how casually these two men were discussing the murder of one man and the assault of another.

Wait, Michael thought, What did he call that one guy?

This was way too weird for Michael to take and he tried moving. But he found that he was handcuffed by both wrists and ankles to a steel chair. That realization shocked Michael out of his semi-coma. He tore open his eyes to see an even darker and damper atmosphere than the one of the city outside. And around him were all sorts of medical equipment, even some instruments that he hadn't even seen before. But the thing that caught the utmost of his attention was the two figures that were looking intently at him.

One man had dark brown hair down past his shoulders with the deepest green eyes he'd ever scene. The other man had auburn skin tone whose hair and eyes were darker than black. They both were wearing some form of leather and looked incredibly pissed off at Michael. Michael leaned as far back in his chair as he could without falling over. The man with black walked towards him.

"Good you're up. Why the fuck were you in those bushes?" Michael could only stare at him for a reply. He was too freaked out to even blink, much less talk. But the guy was insistent.

"I asked, WHY THE FUCK WERE YOU IN THOSE BUSHES?" He raised his hand up to strike Michael but the other man's hand caught it. Michael was still cowering in his chair with a good sheen of sweat encasing him when he noticed there was no hand crushing his face again. He looked up to see the black-haired man seething at the other guy.

"Apparently, Samuel, you're still a little too excited to handle this like a civilized person." The other man stated.

Like a civilized person? Michael thought, Did you see the way he killed that one man?

Samuel was still incredibly irate but he tore his hand down from the man's grip and smashed to his side, fuming out of the room. Michael jumped at the slamming of the door. The other man had watched him leave the room and finally turned back to Michael.  
"Excuse me for his behavior. I should have taught him better etiquette towards our guests." Michael gawked as best he could when he heard such his response.

"Ah, but speaking of etiquette, I should set an example, shouldn't I?" Michael's jaw dropped as far as it dare go. How could such a motley looking man be so articulate?

"I'm Lucien." A curious look came onto this Lucien's face as he tenderly reached for Michael's. Michael instinctively flinched when the man's hand touched his cheek but the pain coming from, everywhere, it seemed exploded. He cried out again.

"And Sam seems to have broken your jaw. Damn, that will set a couple things behind schedule."

What the hell is he talking about? Thought Michael. Lucien walked over the table full of medical instruments and picked up a syringe. Michael's eyes grew twice their normal size and the blood drained from his face. He thanked god that he wasn't gagged because otherwise he would have passed out from the lack of oxygen by now.

Lucien saw this and said,  
"Don't worry, this will just help with the healing process."

"Haw de 'ell can it do dat?" Michael tried speaking, rather successfully, considering his current condition. A grimace fledged onto Lucien's weary face.

"By making you one of us." He said while testing the syringe in his hand. The syringe was filled with a dark-red liquid.

Oh, SHIT! Thought Michael.

Michael's eyes widened ten-fold. He started to pull at his chains and get somewhere out of here. But Lucien's strong hands grasped at his arm and he thrust the blood-filled container directly into his vein. The initial pain was bearable but when the actual blood entered his bloodstream his entire body started on fire. It started with just his arm but then it raced through his body, leaving a horrid burning everywhere except the injection site.

What the hell was in that syringe? Michael tried to shout but all he could do was scream unintelligently. He was almost about to tear out of his chains when Lucien grabbed him by the shoulders.

"BE STILL!" His voice was domineering and strong. That exclamation gave Michael enough strength to hold on to some level of decency while his blood burned him inside out.

Michael was wishing that the pain would decrease in some way, shape, or form. But it never did. And Lucien just staying in the back of the room, watching everything Michael was feeling from afar. But Michael was so tired, he didn't even care. All the pain was exhausting and he just wanted to sleep. The burn was still as brutal, he just didn't notice it as much anymore.

Then, miraculously, the pain stopped. There was no gradual waning away but it ended in a very abrupt stop. Like there hadn't even been any burn to begin with. It was like a new body was created for him with his face and he was ready to use it.

Testing out this new-found feeling, he tested his chains. They snapped apart just as easily as if they were tin-foil. Michael pulled off the chains and stood up. He felt…good. He could think of no other words. Michael looked over to Lucien, who was still crouching in the back corner, with an expecting look on his face. Strangely, Michael didn't feel wronged by him at all. He knew Lucien had granted him a new life.

Then Lucien gently walked over to Michael. He looked him over and said,

"In four day's time, the full moon will beckon to the Lycan that is now within you."

Michael just stood staring at him with a disgusted look on his face.

"You mean you turned me into a man-dog-thing?"

Lucien chuckled.

"If that's what you call it."

Michael was livid now. He threw himself at Lucien, trying to kill the fiend that turned him into something evil. He thought that the blood was just a healing anti-body, but it wasn't. It was infectious and something that wasn't entirely natural.

But as Michael charged him, Lucien picked him up and smashed him through one of the dark colored walls. A bolt of adrenaline shot through his system and with then Michael was shocked into a world he had never been to. But it felt so familiar, like a memory.

Back at the wolverine den, a feral call resounded from the darkness. A new-born was mewling for its dead mother. Its call was soft at first, but the urgency was growing.


	4. Lost and Found

4. Lost and Found

Edward, Emmett, Bella and the Pack –

It had been a slow day/week/month for E and E PIs. The economy wasn't helping their situation in anyway and Edward and Emmett were bored. It was the kind of boredom that would shut a business down, simply because no one cared anymore. But they stayed at their posts diligently because there was hardly anything else to do. It was looking to be another wasted and unproductive day until the phone started ringing.

Emmett snapped furiously at Edward, signaling him to start taking notes. Edward produced a notebook out of his jean pocket. When he saw that Edward was ready, Emmett picked up the phone.

"E and E Private Investigators, this is Emmett." He tried to act nonchalant but he and Edward were both very releaved to finally get a case.

"Hi…uh," A nervous voice came onto the line; obviously a woman, "I called the police to file a missing persons report but they said they could only inform the public to keep a look out." She answered.

Edward's hand grazed over the paper, leaving in its trial, a perfect copy of everything that she had said.

"But they did suggest I hire a private investigator." She added.

Edward mumbled, still taking notes.

"I'm glad they did. But do you what us to find this missing person or...?" Emmett asked, with a smile in his voice.

"Yeah. I mean yes! Uh…I suppose you need my information, or something?" The woman on the phone was obviously not used to this kind of arrangement and was speaking so fast, Edward's hand was having trouble keeping up with her excited pace.

Emmett chuckled at her apprehension. He leaned back in his chair, gaining confidence.

"Yes. Yes, we do."

"Oh! Um, my name is Bella…Isabella Swan and my cousin, the guy whose I filed that report for, is Michael Corvin. I was going meet him at his apartment, to help him move, after he got off work early, but he never came…" Bella's voice ended on a grim, final note.

Edward stopped writing and Emmett froze in the back of his chair. There was an ominous feeling enveloping all three of them. Like they all knew that whatever happened to Michael was so heinous, none of them wanted to find out the whole truth. No one spoke for quite a while.

Bella broke the dread-filled silence.

"So can you guys help me?" Her voice was almost a whisper.

Emmett snapped out his fear and shook off any feeling of foreboding. The two brothers looked at each other and nodded in agreement. Emmett turned back to the phone but kept his eyes locked with Edward's.

"Yes, I believe we can." He spoke confidently. But the sinister premonition was lingering everywhere.

"Um, come down to our office, we'll get started there."

Emmett put down the hand set. This day was getting worse when it initially seemed to be a good one.

"What do you think we should do?" asked Edward. Edward did not want anything to do with this Bella Swan. Or this Michael. But Emmett was the more rational of the two and thought Edward was simply superstitious. He was silent for a while, thinking. When he finally made his decision, Edward knew his answer before it had come off his brother's tongue.

"I think we should start by checking out this guy's place. Then go from there."

Edward nodded.

Within ten minutes of getting off the phone with Bella, there was a knock at their door. Edward went up to get it. Emmett was still sitting in his chair, wondering how they should really go about this one. Meanwhile, Edward was thinking whether or not he should even open the door. But when he did, he was speechless.

Before his eyes, there was a woman in her mid-twenties standing, drenched head-to-toe. She had dark hair, or maybe that was just the rain, and the palest skin he'd ever seen, contrasting perfectly with her dark hair. She was a masterpiece in his eyes. But Edward was very good at hiding his true feelings.

"Please, come in." He said without a hint of awe or even tension in his voice.

She dutifully went in their small office. Edward was suddenly conscious of the mold in the ceiling and the drab feeling you got from being here for more than three minutes. She sat down and clutched her purse on her water-logged lap. Emmett turned around to greet her with his trade-mark smile. It was a comforting smile and Bella felt at ease for the first time since Michael didn't show up at his place.

Emmett relaxed easily back into his chair while Edward made himself comfortable by leaning against the wall adjacent to Bella.

"Shall we get started right away?" Emmett started. Edward looked at him furiously and when he shrugged with a confused look on his face, Edward rolled his eyes and then put on his most hospitable face and approached Bella- who hadn't noticed this exchange at all because she was digging through her purse- and proceeded to stand in front of her, trying to get her attention. But she kept digging through her purse for something. Edward cleared his throat. Bella's head shot up,

"Oh, sorry! What were you saying?"

Emmett chuckled. Edward's face grew taunt at his brother's chortle. But Edward put the smile back on and said,

"Nothing, I was just wondering if I could take your coat."

"Yes! Thank you! Here." She took the sloshing brown coat off and delicately handed it to Edward.

"Sorry, it's raining outside." Her face was apologetic and incredibly embarrassed. Her face turned two shades of red. Edward thought that the added color just made her even more beautiful. He could hardly turn away but managed to compose himself before Emmett noticed.

As Edward hung Bella's coat up, she finally calmed into the old but comfortable chair.

Emmett gave another one of his trade-mark smiles and asked her,

"What were you digging for in your purse?"

Her blush deepened another shade of red.

"Uh, my keys… I must have left them back at his place."

Both Emmett and Edward could find the humor in that situation. But Bella looked downcast because of this development.

"I guess I'll have to go back to his place and get them." She stated almost apologetically.

"You have a key to his place?" Emmett wondered.

"Yeah, he loaned me one to get into his place if he wasn't there. And he wasn't…" That feeling of persistent dread overcame them once again. All three merely passed it off as anxiety or anxiousness, again. The almost supernatural sensation was becoming even easier to rationalize every time it descended upon them. This time they recoiled even faster from it than before. It was hardly noticeable as they brushed it off. But instead of disappearing completely like last time, it lingered within their very core. It refused to recede to the back of their minds and be temporarily forgotten.

Emmett was the one who broke the silence this time.

"Do you mind if we can come along?"

Bella swallowed and nodded, using the majority of his upper body to emphasize that point.

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be fine."

Emmett grinned again and motioned to the door. "Shall we go?"

No one really wanted to.

When they arrived at his place, they immediately noticed some suspicious figures hanging around the street that Bella said he normally took to the hospital and back. They were wearing dark hoodies but they weren't necessarily out of place. So they didn't pay much attention to them.

His actual apartment was sparsely furnished and looked to have a fine layer of dust over it.

"Residents don't have much of life outside of the hospital. And he was going to move to a flat closer to it." Bella explained.

Edward started poking around the numerous books and texts that Michael had scattered around his place.

"Jesus, these things are heavy!" Emmett exclaimed, trying to pick one up. He dropped it back down on Michael's largest desk with a THUD!

"Hey, Em, we don't want to destroy his property while were at it." Edward warned.

But Emmett wasn't listening to his brother anymore. He was looking through any documents that might prove useful for any reason at all. But they were both effectively able to find nothing at all.

With discouraged looks on their faces, they approached Bella.

"I'm sorry, Ms Swan, but we were unable to find any reason to why Michael disappeared."

Bella looked disappointed and the feeling growing within all of them did nothing to give them any kind of hope. Bella just nodded at them and said,

"It's okay, I'll let you guys know if anything else turns up." Bella let a broken sigh escape her lips.

"How much do I owe you guys?"

Edward and Emmett exchanged looks. Edward looked back towards Bella.

"Uh, this one's on us. We didn't find anything so it's free." said Edward.

Emmett hummed in agreement.

"Oh, okay. I'll just go home then." Bella's voice sounded distant and far away.

"Alright, where do you live? We'll drive you." Emmett offered.

"No, I live nearby. I'll walk." Edward and Emmett looked at her in surprise.

"You mean you walked to our office?"

Bella laughed weakly. "Of course not! I took the bus."

Edward and Emmett stared at her as she quietly gathered her belongings and made her way home.

The two brothers left and as they made their way back to their car, they noticed the same hoodlums were hanging around their car now. There were about four of them. One was absolutely huge and had dark black hair, with a harsh complexion, another one was actually a she and looked to have bi-passed the whole sweet-girl phase, the smallest looked to be the most dangerous and the other one stood there; waiting for a fight. They all looked related and Edward had no doubt in his mind that they considered each other family, even if it wasn't by blood.

Emmett stiffened, trying to put on the semblance that he was larger than he really was. Emmett was really quite muscular and Edward knew how to handle himself in a fight, but the hoodlums weren't intimidated at all. They actually seemed to get excited and started to move towards the advancing duo.

Emmett didn't want to fight and tried just to push through them, but they pushed right back.

Hard.

Edward watched with disbelief as the only female hoodlum grabbed Emmett by the collar and threw him up in the air. Emmett had the wind knocked out of him as he hit the pavement directly on his back. He gasped but nothing was going into his lungs. Edward just stood by in disbelief.

He slowly turned to the female and whispered,

"That's not possible."

She smiled.

"There's a lot you humans find impossible." Her voice was almost as dangerous as she was.

The rest of the gang flashed Edward the most dangerous looking smiles he'd ever seen. He could only tilt his head in confusion. But as soon as Emmett got a hold of his breath, he was on his feet, swearing and picking himself up. Out of anger and a little bit of a hurt ego, he threw himself at the female that had humiliated him so terribly. Another male in the group thrust his hand out, effectively stopping Emmett in his tracks.

Edward gasped. Emmett snapped his head back towards his brother.

"You think their tough, too? Ah, come on! Help me get the… shit…" he started but was distracted by the same thing Edward was.

The hoodlums' eyes had turned a disturbing black where their whites should have been and where their irises were; only a murky blue haze remained.

"What the fuck?" Emmett breathed.

All four of them widened their grins.

Edward gasped again. Their teeth were all canine-like and disturbingly sharp.

"Are you in some kind of cult?" demanded a now alarmed Emmett.

Instead of giving another cryptic answer, the hoodlums burst out laughing. The sound of it reverberated within Edward's and Emmett's ear drums and reminded them of a pack of blood-thirsty hyenas.

Both brothers scrambled back from the hoodlums; now terrified. But they were suddenly surrounded. The smiles on the hoodlums faces were now gone. Their new expression just reinforced their blood-thirsty appearance. The largest one grabbed Emmett and started…sniffing him. Emmett began hyperventilating.

Then the large man-thing threw him back down and let another smirk break out on his face. The rest of the gang started cackling and their eyes reverted back to a more human look. But the animalistic nature was not entirely gone from them. The female sauntered over to Edward and breathed in his ear,

"Don't look for Michael. He'll be back when he's ready."

She patted him on his cheek, smirked and walked over to the largest man-thing and turned her back to the stunned brothers. She looked back and murmured,

"Come on, Sam. I think they got the message." Sam (apparently) snorted and wrapped his arm around the woman-thing and three of them walked away without looking back. The only one who did was the one who looked like he wanted a fight. He looked disappointed.  
It took Emmett and Edward quite a while to be able to breath normally again. But when they did, Emmett spoke somberly,

"Ed…what the fuck just happened?"

Edward didn't have a clue. But he knew that finding this Michael was going to thrust them into something far larger than a simple gangbang.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Michael was hurled into a strange and unfamiliar world. He found himself, kneeling, chained to a stone floor. Michael was starting to get really tired of being chained to things. But in this reality (he knew it was real) he did nothing to fight them. He tried but his arms refused to even twitch, much less break out of the cold metal.

But, suddenly, all of his senses were overtaken by a pain so horrible on his back that he thought it was broken. It was as if someone accidentally dumped a hot liquid on his back and then decided to lacerate the blisters and rub alcohol into the wounds. And yet, he didn't scream or move one fiber of his body. He was starting to wonder if this all was a dream. It certainly didn't feel like one to Michael. The pain was so real and every sense of his was on fire.

Another swish behind him warned him of another crippling blow. His body did nothing to prepare for it and because of that, when the blow actually hit, his eyes started to water. He took every one of the blows in succession without letting a single syllable escape his throat. Even when blood poured onto his calves and pooled at his feet, he held every sensation in his breast.

Scream body! Just Scream! He yelled internally. But nothing would come out of his mouth. And the lashes kept coming and coming, mercilessly tearing flesh from his back, leaving cutting lacerations everywhere on his back and basically, his entire rear half. He felt as though the lashes would never stop raining down upon him.

Then they stopped. Michael breathed a sign of relief. But, he could only blow it right out into an older man's face when he was yanked by his hair to meet a man who was looking at him with a disgusted look on his face. The pain from his scalp was only an echo compared to what he had just endured. He stared into the man's unnaturally blue eyes and could hardly care when the man threw his head down onto the stone floor.

"Hideous creature. Sonja, prepare the Death Dealers! There is a pack of wolves right outside our door!"

Death Dealers? This man was commanding the Death Dealers? Michael was starting to like Lucien a lot more and was starting to care less and less for the man he saw gunned down if this was his commander. But he couldn't hate the Death Dealers. For some incomprehensible reason, he wanted to.

That name Sonja…

It felt beautiful and … dreadful.

Who was Sonja? Michael asked himself.

"And kill this miserable dog!" yelled the strange man, who was clearly talking about Michael.

What? What the fuck have I done to you? Michael wanted to scream but his lips were sealed.

Okay, Death Dealers = bad. Michael cleared that up matter in his head and no longer felt any compassion towards the supposed Death Dealer in the clearing.

Get up! Get out! RUN AWAY! He kept on screaming within himself. But it was so futile.

His body was a foreign object and refused to react to his will. He heard footsteps shuffling behind him and he continued to scream at himself without any reaction from his body at all. He felt chained to something colder and even stronger than steel or the iron currently shackling him. Like ice had invaded his heart and frozen him in place.

Until a stirring inside him brought him to his feet. It made his heart feel again, both emotionally and physically. It started to beat uncontrollably.

The name Sonja…it seemed to give him strength.

Who was this Sonja?

There was a swishing through the air and finally, Michael's body actually did something. But when he saw what had happened, he was petrified. His eyes were finally able to focus on his own hand snapping the neck of, what he thought to be, one of those Death Dealers. In that burst of muscle reaction, he had broke out of those huge chains and stopped the executioner from slicing his neck open. Incredibly disturbed, he looked for an exit sign. He then flew through the air, of this … prison (Michael hadn't gotten a good look of it; he was to busy face down in the ground) and found his own exit by smashing through a one of the many ornate windows surrounding other captives he had been apparently been rooming with.

Trying to spruce the place up, huh… Michael thought. Not working.

Then Michael's blood ran cold, for the second time tonight. However, this time it was because of a completely different reason.

As he was smashing through the window, he caught his reflection. The last thing he saw was the deepest pair of green eyes he'd ever known.

Michael's eyes were brown.

Michael jerked back into a time he was familiar with and nearly had a hernia when he realized he was covered in dust and his shoulders were being held by strong hands.

His eyes adjusted to the bleakness of a dark building. Michael saw a room, with medical instruments covering carts and tables and a broken chair, through a hole in a wall that he had probably made. Glimmers of memory started to return to him and he remembered the chair and his jaw and then the strange blood.

"What the hell just happened?" Michael found himself asking.

Lucien let go of his harsh grip on Michael's shoulders and walked out in front of Michael's face, hands folded behind his back. He turned around and looked intently at Michael. A strange glint in Lucien's eyes unnerved Michael, but he made no effort to move, so neither did Michael.

"Does your face hurt?" He asked after a while of just studying Michael.

Michael's brow furrowed but he answered,

"No, why?" Then memory flooded at him, instead of just shining glimmers into his eyes.

Lucien drew up his mouth in a knowing smile and ducked through the hole that looked more Michael shaped the more Michael studied it.

"I'm sorry I had to react the way I did. But time is so short and having a human on our hands is just too stressful for the moment." He paused, looking at the broken chair, that Michael remembered so clearly now.

"So, obviously, you're no longer human." Lucien said quite bluntly.

Michael tested his jaw out, and sure enough, it didn't hurt at all. Lucien was prepared for another outburst from Michael, but this time, he showed no indication of retaliation.

However, Michael wanted answers. But he had calmed down enough to be diplomatic about gaining them. Lucien moved over to the tables lining the room and started to examining the instruments on them.

"Can you answer me some questions then?" Michael wondered.

"Of course, what would you like to know?" Lucien responded, his voice as bland as ever, never once taking his eyes off the shiny and not quite sanitary mechanisms.

"What am I now? What will I become?" Michael asked.

Lucien hummed.

"You have become a Lycan, the brethren to William, the feral. What you will become is completely up to you." Lucien turned back to Michael.

"I would like you become one of my followers; part of my horde, since you are now a Lycan, but as I've said, that's entirely up to you."

Michael pondered this; It was just a normal day and all of a sudden he witnesses a murder and then he's infected with…

"Lycan, you mean lycanthrope?" Michael wondered aloud.

Lucien's eyes brightened and he didn't speak for a while. He roamed around the tables with his hands.

"Yes…" He stated finally.

"Okay so you're, I'm, we're…werewolves?"

"Yes…"

Michael was growing increasingly exhausted from everything. But he still had one more question.

"Who's Sonja?"

Lucien's demeanor suddenly changed. The ambivalent nature to which Lucien answered Michael's questions was gone. His body tensed and he stood completely still for at least ten seconds. Then he seized a scalpel on the table and was instantly pressuring Michael's throat with it.

"How do you know about her?" He hissed into Michael's ear.

Michael tried to bring air into his lungs without having his throat slit open.

"I don't know! I was in this dungeon and then this one old guy said he was going to kill me but then I jumped out the window!" He rushed out of his mouth.

Lucien held the scalpel still for a good minute. But to either man, it was as long as forty days.

Then Lucien swooned up to his feet and threw the blade into the wall beside Michael.

Michael sucked in a torrent of breath as it landed nearly a centimeter from his face. Lucien no longer took any mind to Michael, but he felt the need to answer the new-born's last question. Both for himself and Michael. He grasped the mass of hair he had acquired over the centuries and slowly ran his fingers through it as best he could; collecting his thoughts.

"She is an Elder, and the daughter to the "old guy" that told his guard to kill me."

Michael started at Lucien, confused. Lucien saw this and continued,

"That was not some vision you had. That was a memory from my life, transferred to you when I injected my blood into you. We don't quite know why this happens, but as you can attest to, it does.

"That was the night where I escaped from the Coven, the Death Dealers as you know them to be. That was the night I left her. The night I left the one I can not love. The one I do love."

Michael gawked at the Lycan before him; awed. Something about this man just drew people to him, and Lucien was good enough not to abuse this. Michael was no exception and a feeling of devotion was settling into his mind, ever so comfortably.

Lucien straightened his posture and turned around to Michael. The ambivalent demeanor had returned to him.

"So, will you follow me?" he asked simply.

Michael looked around him and to his possible future. There was no way to regain his humanity but this Lucien fellow had retained his civility and seemingly thrived under these austere conditions.

The options for Michael were many, but the outcomes were few and of those, even fewer actually allowed for Michael to have a less-than-horrific end.

So he chose one he thought would give him an actual shot at this life.

"Sure…" He breathed, sealing his fate.

Somewhere, there lay an end for Michael. Somewhere, there lay an end for one woman to lead him there. For it was her's as well.


	5. Secrecy

5. Secrecy

Sonja, Esme and Selene –

Sonja's car raced into the garage way after the sun had risen and she had spent the rest of the day in a disturbed, tossing-and-turning mess of a slumber. Even though she had the luxury of the most comfortable bed she'd had in centuries, all because she was an Elder, she couldn't find sleep or put Lucien out of her mind. He was haunting her in the most pleasant of ways. The way he talked about being her pet; it was troubling the level of devotion that lie in his voice. But she couldn't help but feel excited when she thought about him catching her, holding her.

That thought alone, where Lucien was catching her, was almost metaphoric to the point where she imagined him as her savior and that image finally gave her the peace of mind to close her eyes and drift into sub-consciousness.

But her god damned door starting being pounded on and the handle started to turn. Sonja glanced at her bedside clock.

"How is it already 8:26?" She mumbled. Sonja rolled over to see the door start to open.

"Sonja! Rise and Shine!" A woman called. "My dear! Look at you!" She yelled, when she actually saw Sonja, with banter in her voice and started to pull back the shades as the last light of sun dashed behind the horizon line.

"Why thank you…" Sonja retorted.

The woman turned back to Sonja and had a self-satisfied grin on her face.

"Come on Sonja. It's sundown! You're usually up by now. What's wrong?" She asked, all too concerned.

"First of all, I couldn't sleep. Second of all, Caius is being quite annoying and thirdly, you're in too good a mood, Esme." Sonja answered.

"Well, haven't you woken up on the wrong side of the bed." Esme retorted.

"I haven't fallen asleep yet. Be grateful this isn't the third time in a row I've been deprived of such sleep."

Esme pretended like she hadn't heard that. She remembered the time when she had been a bit too forceful being a surrogate mom and ended up without a head; for a while.

Sonja noticed Esme's ignorant attitude toward that remark and also remembered that time. She sat up, stretched, and was very grateful that Esme was a diamond vampire. Dusks would not be the same without her.

Esme was picking up Sonja's discarded Death Dealer suit and hanging it up in Sonja's weapons/overall Death Dealer wardrobe.

"Esme, stop," Sonja started as she actually got out of bed. She hated when Esme started doing menial tasks that only made Sonja feel like a child again. But as soon as her feet hit the cold floor, immediately, something inside her felt horribly wrong. Her legs gave way and she felt herself faint for the second time in forty-eight hours.

A pair of strong hands caught her before she could land on the cold ground. She reveled in the feeling of being saved from oblivion. Sonja could only think of one person who'd done that for her.

"Lucien…" she breathed, almost relieved to be held by him once again.

As she opened her eyes, she saw Esme staring with her liquid honey orbs, wide with shock.

Sonja realized her mistake and was just as appalled by it as much as Esme was.

How could you say that? She scolded herself internally. She narrowed her thoughts,

How could you even think of a _dog_ saving you? Sonja was disgusted with herself, even without Esme's burning stare.

Sonja leapt to her feet. The cold ground reminding her of the din from her "meeting" with _him_. She still felt a little light-headed but it wasn't nearly bad enough to cause her to faint for a second time.

Esme just stared at her. A torrent of emotions spread across her face. It was like a slideshow, sped up fifteen times faster.

Sonja could identify disbelief, anger, curiosity, concern, joy?, confusion, and fear. But the rest were lost to Sonja because of her own revulsion.

Sonja waited, haughtily, for Esme's judgment. She held her head up high in arrogance. Esme adjusted her own body posture accordingly.

"Why would one utter such a ghastly name?" Esme spat.

Sonja disagreed; it was quite an elegant name. But she said nothing; she couldn't or Esme would certainly alert the council about her behavior that not even Sonja really understood. She would have to lie, mostly.

Her head reached for its highest peak before saying,

"I met with him last night."

Esme's eyes nearly burst. She opened her mouth and nearly started chastising Sonja if she was not so stunned. So Sonja continued.

"That's why I was so tired. He is a most beguiling fiend and he too, held my shoulders when I was powerless beneath his charm."

Esme was listening, which implied that she was believing Sonja's half-truth. But Sonja herself was faltering in her stoic performance.

Oh, god. I can hardly keep up my own lines. What is happening to me? She thought.

Esme saw Sonja wince under the mental anguish, and knew what had happened to Sonja. But it was so strange and humorous to Esme so that she herself was having trouble with her stoic composure too. But still, Sonja went on,

"I was startled by that contact and immediately broke out of his grasp. When you took my shoulders, I was merely reacting, groggily - for I haven't slept - to his vile touch."

The two women stood absolutely still for a generation to mortal men before even breathing once again. Not that Esme really needed to, but she could sense so much more when she did. Sonja was only thirty-eight percent sure that Esme had bought her story; for some of it was true.

But as she looked upon the parts that weren't; anyone could see that they held no weight to them. So Esme would definitely realize the lie within her words. Sonja gave up to what was budding inside her.

She fainted for the third time in a short forty-eight hour period. Out of the millennia she'd lived, these were the only times she'd ever fainted. Sonja dreaded the reason for her sudden taking to blacking out.

Again, a pair of strong arms caught her. But these arms were cold as stone and Sonja fully realized that it was Esme saving her this time.

Esme smiled at Sonja's ignorance towards her own emotions. She brought her to the bed and laid the exhausted Elder upon the mass of blankets that served as her bed. Esme laid her hand on Sonja's brow and let a smile grace her cold lips.

"My dear, tell me everything…"

Esme's voice was open and even supporting. Sonja couldn't take it anymore. There was too much emotion that she had carried with her; let it burden her down for so long. All for trying to keep up a strong appearance, because you can't cry when you're an Elder. But in reality, Sonja wasn't that strong.

Sonja could hardly hold on to any reality anymore because of the shear amount of tears that cascaded from her eyes. She cried silently onto her bed until Esme picked her up and laid Sonja's head against her own shoulder.

"There, there, let it all out. Don't bottle things up so tightly, or this'll happen again." Esme encouraged.

Sonja gratefully, started pouring everything inside her out.

"What the hell am I suppose to do I lov…" Sonja paused. "I feel for a Lycan, I'm an Elder for god's sake and I'm crying my eyes out! Caius is starting the first full-scale immortal war since William and god knows what the hell Aro is up to." She cried.

Esme just listened while Sonja bared her soul to her. She would occasionally run her fingers through Sonja's hair, or kiss her forehead, and soon Sonja stopped crying and her breathing returned to normal.

Meanwhile, a Death Dealer was walking past Sonja's great room, on her way to the armory, but stopped outside the door as soon as she heard Sonja's strained voice.

"I don't know, Esme, he said that we grew up together. And a part of me remembers that, and even likes that." Sonja said, ashamed. "Something makes me…happier when I think of the times when he was just my "pet"; when it was just he and I. No war or hate or even Father."

The woman outside the door's breathing hitched.

"Viktor…" She breathed.

Sonja looked into Esme's eyes; they were so loving, almost the color of melting caramel, and breathed quietly her, and unbeknownst to Sonja or Esme, the other woman's ears,

"I think I love him…" She said quickly before slamming her head back onto Esme's shoulder. Esme held her as Sonja's tears wet her own shirt.

"A sinner rapes a thousand saints, sharing the same hell with me." Sonja cried.

Esme held the tired vampire and rocked her back and forth to near-sleep, lulling a gentle melody to her.

But before Sonja was completely asleep, Esme whispered back,

"My child, it's okay. Love is so blind."

Sonja responded with a gentle smile across her face.

Outside the Elder's door, the woman was frozen in utter disbelief. She knew of only one "pet" that Sonja had grown up with.

"Lucien…" She growled.

Esme's head shot up when she heard that name being spoken, hissed rather, outside Sonja's very door. Esme looked down at Sonja, who was finally sleeping with a pristine look of peace on her face, and laid her down on her bed and covered her before even looking back at the door. A look of the utmost motherly protection was carved onto her stone face when she finally did.

How can she love a Lycan! Sonja and…Lucien. What has become of the Death Dealer in her?! The woman screeched in her mind.

She rushed away to find someone to expose the traitor that Sonja was. But she had not taken four steps from her hidden corner when a very dangerous looking Esme appeared not six centimeters from her face.

"You will say nothing, Selene. Sonja trusts you like a sister. Do you know what it would it mean for you to betray that trust?" Esme's voice was disturbingly hard and callous. But Selene was having none of it. She had thought Sonja a sister as well, they had become like family. Sonja was the sister that Selene had lost and Selene was the sister Sonja never had. But that hardly mattered; this was intolerable.

"He is a Lycan! More than that, he it _the_ Lycan! How can we just sit back and watch both the Coven and Sonja burn because of this, this… lie?" She countered. "Besides, your stone heart can't even feel love! So why should you tell me how to handle someone drowning in a false manipulation of it?"

Esme was destroyed. Selene had said the worst things pulled exactly the right strings needed to cripple the invincible Coven Mother. Selene regretted the words as soon as she'd said them, and immediately tried to apologize.

"Esme, that came out completely wrong. I mean, he's a Lycan, you know about them… and me." Selene ended, slightly uncomfortable.

"Yes I do, but, you said what you did, and let me ask you this, how can one with so much hate in their own heart consul those who have actually let someone into theirs?" Esme retorted before storming off down the hall. Anger and pain rolled off her very being.

Selene stood there, shattered as well. The night the Lycans had come was the turning point in her life. That was the night she had forsaken her own heart, she knew that only pain would come from having one. But to have someone point out the emptiness she felt inside was a completely different thing. She looked back to Sonja's door and stared at it for a while, wondering how Sonja could love Lucien and more importantly, how she could love at all. She then turned to float down the hallway, going the opposite way that Esme had.

Sonja awoke to a gentle moonrise. The closest thing she had to a sunrise. She looked at her clock.

It read in gently illuminated blue lines,

"9:56." Sonja's voice was surprisingly harsh for only an hour long nap. She slowly stepped out of bed and dressed herself in one of her Death Dealer suits. As she slid from the confines of her room, Sonja was met with a perplexing situation. She was alone in the hallway.

Surely, Sonja thought, Esme would have waited an hour for her.

Esme was not only like a mother to Sonja, but also to most of the female, and even some of the male, vampires that resided within these hallowed halls.

And such a mother would wait a mere hour for one of her children.

Distraught, Sonja wandered the halls of the massive castle that had been her home for so many years, looking for the mother that had filled in the hole created by the death of her biological one so long ago. She almost flew around the building looking for her latest confidant.

Confidant… The word echoed in her mind. It brought to mind the last person she had named by that title.

SHIT! She nearly yelled. But the words caught in her throat. Sonja might trust Selene but Selene was a purest just as Sonja had taught her to become – Death Dealers are supreme and that gives us the responsibility to protect our own Coven and the privilege to kill the other immortal races and those interacting with them. If Selene ever found out about her feelings toward Lucien, there would be hell to pay. Hell in the form of a burning sun.

God damn you Sonja! She screamed in her own mind. Why did you have to sow the seeds of your own demise?

She sped up searching every nook and cranny of the mansion, looking for Selene, or Esme.

Sonja eventually found Selene; in the place she should have been looking all the time. The armory.

Selene was currently shooting the eyes out of the practice mannequins. Every single one of them was going to need a seeing-eye dog.

So, Sonja thought, she likes to squeeze off a few. She's good at it too.

Sonja had an idea. She walked over to the weapon's technician, Khan, she believed it was. As she approached his "office" (it was basically a chain-link box with lots of heavy artillery within those chains) Khan looked up from his work bench, shocked to see the lady of the Coven walking toward him. It was common knowledge around the Coven that Sonja had once been a fearless warrior in the days when William was a constant threat to the Coven, but just in the last century she had given into her more administrative duties.

Kahn nearly stuttered when he opened his mouth.

"Milady, what can I do for you?"

Sonja chuckled at his uneasiness.

"Relax, Kahn, I know my way around a trigger." She smiled, to which he calmed down quite a bit. The uneasiness returned when she picked up a fully loaded semi-automatic Magnum from his work bench. He had been working on a silver-nitrate bullet but was no where near done and was about to lift it from her hand but the look she shot at him was warning enough not to mess with her firearms.

In the blink of an eye, Sonja whirled around, pointed the gun straight at his face, and pulled the trigger. Kahn was frozen as the bullet almost grazed his cheek, went straight through one of the chain links and landed quite neatly into the Selene's new mannequin's left eye. Selene was almost too surprised from the sudden hole in her mannequin to turn around and see the current Elder, smiling broadly at Kahn and Selene.

Haughtily, Sonja set the gun back onto the still stunned vampire's worktable and walked over to the other end of his table.

"That was nice, but I was wondering though; if you had some older weapons." She said with an apparent dislike for guns.

Kahn was still frozen with shock to even ask what she meant and just waited for her to explain.

"Maybe a broadsword or even a claymore?" She dutifully continued.

Kahn just stared at her.

"You want a sword?" He wondered if she had lost her mind. Swords were hardly effective weapons in this century. But she was the Elder, he couldn't disobey her. And with Viktor as her father and the over-protective uncle Caius, to do so would be suicide. So he made his way to the seldom used sword case and picked out Sonja's initialed longsword. Kahn had thought that the beautifully crafted weapon would only be a reminder to a distant memory of primitive warfare. Apparently Sonja thought otherwise.

When she saw Kahn only bring out her own sword she spoke up, "Bring out two…"

Selene wiped around. Fear burned into her eyes. But Sonja's told a completely different story. She knew Selene had heard her confession because of that fear, and a look of smug superiority appeared onto Sonja's face.

She won't say a word after I show her what I still am. Sonja thought. But the uneasy feeling came back. Like she was lying to herself. She was so tired of having to keep up this stoic, strong appearance. The extended sleep was so peaceful, but it passed too quickly. And she wouldn't be able to dream. She vaguely remembered her dream from last night; it was so far away now. Sonja didn't even try to fully remember it. She hated her powerlessness.

But that , Sonja thought, will stop as soon as I have my blade in my hand.

She stepped up to Kahn and took her blade and the other one he had picked out, a simple broadsword. It was simple buy it was sharp and superbly strong. She weighed the blades in her hands; already the powerlessness was fading away.

This will be a good duel, Sonja thought.

Selene was watching her Elder with wide eyes. The graceful woman nearly danced over to her; glee marking every step. Selene didn't realize that Sonja was already in front of her, handing her the broadsword, hilt first.

She understood what was happening.

Why, she thought, did I have to have a sister such as Sonja?

Sonja smiled fiendishly, "How would you fancy some traditional dueling?"

Selene's face glazed over, emptying any emotion she might reveal. She took the blade and weighed it for herself. It was a strong blade that could probably cut through bone.

Selene turned back to Sonja, face as placid as a blank slate, "I'd like that."

Sonja appeared unmoved but the blade in her own hand was burning. She didn't want to do this. She didn't know what she wanted anymore. She wondered if she ever wanted to be an Elder. But Sonja shoved those thoughts from her mind and focused on the task at hand.

"Shall we begin?" Sonja asked, already moving towards the training arena, constructed for martial arts, but it would do. Selene followed instead of answering.

As they entered the small circle, a group of Death Dealers was congregating around them. Sonja raised her sword into an offensive stance, while Selene held hers perpendicular to her leg.

Sonja smiled, forcing it now, "Ready?"

Selene nodded. Then…

No one moved for quite a while. Selene was waiting for Sonja and Sonja was waiting for herself to catch up. This fight didn't seem right. Selene had been so kind to her. They had laughed and cried together. And now it seemed that they were going to fight each other. She waited, but no one moved.

Then Selene rushed to Sonja, swiping her blade upwards from Sonja's hip to her shoulder. But Sonja dodged that by slapping Selene's sword away. Then Sonja lunged directly for Selene's abdomen. Bad mistake.

Selene bent Sonja's elbow back and used her other hand to punch her right in the face. Selene's blank face allowed no one a glimpse into her thoughts. She was actually thinking about how crushed Lucien would be find out his love was dead.

A smile broke through the mask of nothing she wore. She hated all Lycans with a devastating passion. To be able to wound the Alpha Lycan's soul was quite an acomplishment. Selene basked in the moment for a while and when she came out of it Sonja had recovered and used her free hand to grasp her sword from her other hand and she bashed Selene's own face with it. But that smack across Sonja's face had reawakened her dream from last night.

Lucien was much, much younger in it. So was she. She knew it was when Lucien and she had only been in this world for a very short time. They were standing in the old Coven's training arena and he was training dutifully, for her father wanted him to be captain of the day guard. Sonja had been watching Lucien practice barrel-rolling and she wanted to learn, so he offered to teach her. She was very bad at it so Lucien offered give her a little kiss on the cheek every time she finally was able to coordinate herself. One time she did it three times in a row and Lucien rushed over to her and grasped her into a tight hug in congratulations. Sonja and Lucien were both overjoyed to have each other in their arms. But her father had come to check on Lucien at the worst time, and saw them in their embrace. He lashed out at Lucien and Lucien was so hurt, he wasn't able to move for three hours afterwards his beating. Sonja was also chastised and was told never to mingle with such beasts. She listened to her father and they gradually she and Lucien grew apart, but those feelings they both had had never gone away. No matter how much Sonja wanted to deny it.

She snapped back the present, barely a second had pasted and everything had changed. Sonja knew exactly what she had to do. Selene still had the ignorant smile plastered on her face. But Sonja smashed the hilt of her sword directly into her arrogant nose and blood spattered everywhere. Now it was Sonja smiling, as she tripped Selene and laid the blade of her sword across her throat.

"Surrender, please, sister." She pleaded, still with the smile on her face.

Selene could hardly bring the words to her tongue but she found the will to.

"Yes, milady." Dejection echoed within her words.

How could the battle have turned so quickly? She thought. She didn't get much time to think because Tanis suddenly burst through the mass of equally stunned Death Dealers.

"Milady! The council has called an emergency session! Your presence is necessary." He spoke quickly and urgently.

Sonja turned to Selene, who was still on her back and held out her hand to help her up. Selene agreed and took Sonja's hand.

Sonja felt so much better. But she still needed to give a warning to Selene. She didn't want to but there were facades to hold together. As she picked Selene up she thrust her mouth right over Selene's ear and whispered, "You have seen what I can do. Don't make me do what I might have to."

Selene's blood ran even colder. She realized that even after all that they'd been though; she wasn't even safe from Sonja's wrath. Selene got to her feet and felt the broadsword being taken out of her hand and she saw Sonja give her sword and the one she had been using to a subdued Kahn. Sonja walked upstairs to the great hall to attend this council meeting. Selene continued to watch Sonja walk away, growing colder every second.

Little did Selene know that she was safer than ever from Sonja's wrath. For Sonja had burned that all away, she was emptied from it and she knew exactly what to fill it with.

The love she had and finally admitted to herself. The forbidden love she couldn't have.

**Been listening to LOTS of Nightwish, bound to pop up in here somewhere. Like "sinner rapes a thousand saints, sharing the same hell with me"... their lyrics are pure genius.  
**


	6. The Council

6. The Council

Seth and the Jasper –

In front of the Coven's very doors, the council members were arriving. Tanis had called an emergency meeting and everyone was eager to find out what such a meeting was about. At least a dozen sleek, black cars of every shape and size had drove up to the mansion's gates and were let in. They were then escorted to the very doors that led to the centuries old council chamber, where they met every fifty years routinely, by vampires clad in even sleeker Death Dealer outfits, even though those vampires were not Death Dealers themselves.

One such council member was just arriving for this upset in normal vampire routine.

Its right there! He thought with a purpose in mind. Damn, this place is huge. He was in an excellent mood; and for good reason.

Things couldn't have gone any better. He, posing as a council member, had actually been able to approach the vampire coven without getting immediately shot. Now he was wearing some silly make-up and a stupid looking cloak, but he was almost there.

Everything had gone exactly according to plan. He had to put on the stupid makeup and dress in the impractical cloaks and layers but then he just drove up in one of Lucien's cars and stated his fake council name.

"Shaulven," he murmured, praying to God that he wouldn't be shot on sight. This was too good an opportunity for everything to burn up in flames. Seth waited as the longest second he had ever experienced crept by. But the gate scraped open and suddenly the danger of this mission increased ten-fold. "Shaulven" breathed a sigh of relief and pressed on into the heart of enemy territory. He actually remained calm, considering the danger he was in, and casually brought his car directly up to the doors of death…dealers.

He exited from his door and was immediately sheltered from the rain with an umbrella attached to a less than intimidating vampire. Maybe the scrawny but lethal-looking man might be intimidating to a human, but Seth had sunk his teeth into more than a couple vampires that HAD looked much more dangerous.

That attitude probably saved Seth's life. More than once the humans had tried, and failed, to discover what exactly was going on in the house, but it was the way they appeared so scared of the strange people that got them discovered. Mainly, they were turned away at the door; the Coven's attempt to keep a low profile. But when the "lucky" ones were actually able to keep cool _until _they saw the strange, thick liquid people were drinking and the usually cold demeanor of everyone inside those doors…they were the ones who were never seen quite the same again. But this, luckily, was not the case for Seth. The makeup itched his skin and the gowns were less than comfortable, but amid the vampires, he was at ease.

He walked under the umbrella with ease and almost pulled the scrawny vampire up the stairs with him. Seth didn't wait patiently as the door to the Coven was opened for him either. He was a man, well a Lycan, on a mission. And he almost burst through those doors.

Seth/Shaulven walked right into the middle of the large entryway, and had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do now. The high ceiling was imposing and everything in the room, from upholstery, to curtains, and even the air looked like blood.

In fact, the more he looked at the huge staircase just to the left of the entryway, the more it looked like its wood had fed with blood instead of water when it was just a tree. So he just waited and hoped that these council members were so pampered that they had everything done for them.

Just as he had hoped another escort descended from the blood stair case and held out a hand of welcoming. Well before the man was within reaching distance he slapped a smile on his face and gracefully bowed before Shaulven. But Seth was observant enough to see the scorn that enveloped his expression only a moment before the smile was fully formed.

"Milord, you have traveled far. Come follow me and I will take to your quarters." His voice was coated with fake adulation. Seth knew he had to get into character sometime. He put a grimace upon his own face and noticed the tiniest of twitches within the vampire's expressions.

"Very well. Take me to these…chambers you speak of." Seth said with obvious discontentment.

The vampire motioned his with his arms to follow. Seth consented, what else could he really do, and followed the vampire down a maze of hallways and finally they reached the appropriate door for the council member Shaulven.

"Here is your room, come down to the council room in six hours." He said with such a sneer as he shut the door that Seth had trouble not killing the bastard.

Who does this guy think he is? Seth thought, scared his words might get him into trouble, even without revealing himself as a Lycan.

Seth felt the subtlest of tremors attack his strong form. It was as if the vampire wouldn't know his place if it was tattooed to his ass, stapled to his forehead or even branded on his shoulder.

Seth shuddered from memory. He almost went to grasp his arm; that raised skin that constantly reminded him of the days of "servitude" he was born into. But he wasn't Seth, or even a Lycan anymore, he was Shaulven; one of the more illusive council members to "grace" people with his presence at these gatherings. And he had such a gathering to attend in a mere five hours and forty-seven minutes.

Impassive, he moved away from the door and looked around his room. It could easily be confused for a house in it of itself. There was a humongous bed clothed in, surprisingly, a deep velvet red colored comforter, a desk for what ever those important immortals did, a annexed bathroom and a little refrigerator. He was certain of what contents that refrigerator held, but the fact that there was an entire stockpile of blood in his vicinity did nothing to bother him. The only thing that was bothering him was the impending five more hours and now thirty-nine minutes he had to spend.

What am I supposed to do now? He asked himself.

Seth, the Lycan, was growing bored. He wondered about sleeping on the surprisingly comfortable bed enveloping his ass, but he was too wired. So much that could have gone wrong…didn't. And Seth wasn't one for sitting around. He was going to go exploring.

He slowly rose from his new bed and looked at the door for another excruciating four minutes.

Screw it, he thought, I'm totally doing this.

He stealthily opened the huge doors to his room and looked down the hallway both ways. No one. He then flared his nostrils and smelled everything he could pick up. There was so much vampire scent everywhere, both Death Dealer and Diamond that he thought he might throw up. But there was no one new coming down either hall and so he flew around corners as fast as his human form would allow. He could feel the white of his eyes turn black and a murky blue encase his iris.

SHIT SHIT SHIT!!! He yelled inside his head. Seth had to stop along the wall of the hallway and force the Lycan inside him back down. It couldn't come out, yet. Not for another five hours and fifty-two minutes. Finally the beast subsided within him and he felt the changes reverse themselves. Seth thanked Gaia no one saw that lapse of judgment. If anyone had, this mission would be over, permanently.

Slowly, Seth picked himself up and sniffed the air.

Ah, shit. He thought as soon as the smell of vampire assaulted his nostrils. He looked around but no one was in his view, yet. Desperate he looked around, for some hiding spot; he really didn't want to converse with any kind of vampire right now. Now he heard the footsteps getting closer, and with that he started looking around more and more frantically. He looked up in desperation. A smile encompassed his face.

Perfect, he thought.

Jasper was incredibly annoyed. He had to come to the "emergency council meeting" not because he was important, but because Carlisle was at the hospital and didn't want to be left out of the loop. Jasper couldn't care less about "being informed". He had done pretty damn well down in Texas when he and the other newborns didn't know a Death Dealer from William's brood. Back then it was all Diamond vampires with no Volturi or Coven.

Jasper signed. Those were the good days. Those were the days he was a leading general in the Rebel's Cause. They were young, five or ten year-old, vampires who were trying to overtake the humans and their towns, all for the blood. It was going very well but it came crashing down when the Volturi finally did intervene and many of his friends were killed. But for some reason the Volturi head guy offered Jasper an ultimatum; join us, or join your friends in death. He looked all creepy in his black leather trench coat and the other guy next to him wasn't very happy either. But Jasper didn't care about any of _them._

Reluctantly he had to go with the Volturi, but he wasn't happy at all about that fact. He was cold, not just temperature wise, to all and he barely opened his mouth to speak. In fact he had lost many a limb to Caius' outbursts of rage when he refused to even respond to him. Then Caius would take a breath, chuckle, and reattach Jasper back together. But Jasper never spoke directly to Caius. He was still deeply wounded by the death of his friends; they were the closest thing to family he had ever had.

And he watched every second while Caius tore _them_ limb from limb and set them ablaze. He saw the smile that exposed him for the sadistic bastard he was. And he remembered the soft, lie of a smile that Caius turned to him with, trying to act as a gentle angel, saving him from fires of hell. Jasper saw him for the soulless piece of marble he saw.

But what choice did he have?

A century passed by, then another, and finally Jasper himself was starting to look like the piece of dead material Caius was. His skin still resembled wax paper, but the life style he was now living was slowly giving his skin back its smooth exterior. Carlisle had saved him from turning into a Caius.

But now Carlisle was sending him on useless tasks like being an emissary to the Death Dealers. Still, there was no way Jasper could be angry at Carlisle. He was such a patient and gentle soul, only the thirst could change that. Only the thirst could make Jasper and his entire family suffer so greatly.

Just thinking about it made Jasper's throat burn.

At least they'll have blood at these things. Jasper thought. He had gorged himself day and night during his time with the Rebel's Cause. Now Jasper knew that the Rebel's Cause was a stupid idea that was bound to fail as miserably as it did.

One, they built up no self control and that fact continued to haunt Jasper to this day.

Two, if they had succeeded there would be hardly a human to feed on anymore.

And three, the Coven and all the other immortals would be extremely angry at them for drying up their food supply as well. But at that time they thought that they were one of the only vampire covens, ever. How wrong they had been.

And the mansion that Jasper was pulling up to was just one little hint they could have picked up on. He drove up to the gates and spoke into the intercom,

"Jasper Cullen,"

There was some scuffling and mumbling but eventually the gates opened. Jasper had a feeling that the Coven preferred it when Carlisle actually sent him instead of coming himself. Jasper knew this had to do with the fact that he was quieter and more passive towards the Coven than Carlisle was.

Jasper had been exposed to the Volturi and specifically Caius. He would rather be burnt alive than spend another hour with him. Carlisle only knew through him from being his spawn. But Caius wasn't fond enough of Carlisle (he was too "human") and let him go. Caius was fond of Jasper and made him stay. Jasper had no idea why this was. He was a good commander but other than that he was basically a favored toy.

Maybe that's why Caius liked him so much, he didn't complain; he was just a toy to be torn apart and then put back together again.

Jasper put all of his memories to the back of his head and focused on driving up to the classic marble stairs to the entrance to the Coven. He was early, kind of. Tanis had said the meeting would start at three-thirty; which was like a five o'clock meeting for a human.

Jasper's car had pulled in at three-fifteen. Carlisle can tell him where to go, but not when to arrive. However, there were inklings of trouble in Volterra and Jasper was minorly intrigued by this "emergency" meeting.

When the valet vampires started walking towards his car he rushed out of the door and flew inside, not wanting to meet the stares of the "normal" vampires. To them he was an oddity, something to gawk and point at. So he just walked in the direction of the council chamber.

He ended up in the already crowed room at about three-eighteen. Not bad for navigating the confusing hallways and stairs in an attempt to befuddle anyone who would be stupid enough to "bumble" in here.

The camber itself was carved directly into the stone walls of some mountain, personally crushed a beaten down by immortal labor.

A foul smell entered Jasper's nostrils.

Uhg, it still smells like Lycan. He thought.

The stone had aged into a murky bluish-green color and crafted into a square domed room. Carved onto each wall was an emblem for each Elder. S for Sonja, M for Markus, A for Amelia and last of all a V for Viktor.

Jasper actually shuddered.

Viktor, he thought with actual fear.

He almost dropped to the ground if he had not caught Esme's sweet smile in the crowd. That alone was enough for him to forget being in the devil's lair. Even if the devil was currently sleeping.

Jasper flew to his mother's side and they embraced accordingly. Esme wrapped her arms around her adoptive son and Jasper kissed her cheek sweetly, with a hollow feeling that he only got when he was here.

"Oh, Jasper, stop it. You know how you seeing you sad always gets me down." Esme chided.

Esme was the only person in the world who could get a smile on Jasper's face down here. Esme smiled back; satisfied for turning his mood around.

"Come on," she motioned towards her council bench, "the meeting is about to commence."

For the first time, Jasper actually noticed Sonja standing next to his mother. He took a slight step back. Never in all the meetings he'd been to, had Sonja ever been seen next to his mother. Sonja considered it improper to been seen in public with any other immortal besides her Death Dealers. Usually only Selene was sitting next to her during these gatherings but something was different about Sonja. She seemed, good.

She had a passive, confident look on her face as always but now, there was something more. Like she actually believed it herself.

Selene was by her side as well, but she looked completely different then her usual counterpart. Her nose was puffy, her eyes were filled with fear and she was wearing the façade of confidence this time.

Jasper was devastatingly confused, but the meeting was about to start. He let his mother go to Sonja's council bench while he remained in the crowd of vampires that were merely there as observers.

There were murmurs in the crowd about Sonja's new bench mate, but to everyone who knew Esme, it wasn't a complete shock. So the procession continued on as normal. All the council members came forward, bowed to Sonja, and took their own seats. Finally every bench was taken. Jasper breathed a sign of relief; this thing was that much closer to being over. As he took in another breath, he tasted the Lycans that had sweated and bled to make this chamber. Jasper didn't find the Lycan breed terribly revolting as Carlisle did, but he wasn't about to go on a Lycan friend search either.

Then Tanis stepped forward from his position standing next to Sonja and into the center of the chamber.

"Brothers, sisters, welcome. We have gathered here today because there is war on the horizon." He started; his voice loud for being such a sly character.

Some more whispers erupted and one man even went so far as to shout out, "Aren't we always at war?"

Tanis smiled devilishly.

"That is what you think but, what, I pray, does our lady Sonja think?" His voice was lathered with expectation.

The crowd hushed. Even Jasper was frightened of how Sonja would react. One time she had the eyes put out of a man who had merely rolled them in her direction. It wasn't even directed at her. Every pair of eyes was watching her, except Selene's.

Sonja merely shrugged, then added, "Yes, we have always been adamant about controlling the Lycan populations for our collective safety but now, we are on the verge of a full-out war. Not just eradication."

The crowd gasped. Selene wiped her head around to face Sonja. Sonja the Avenger just agreed with a person mocking the war with the Lycans. The sky, the sun and Jupiter just fallen down.

Jasper felt his mouth fall open as well.

What the hell just happened? He thought.

He looked to his mother for some kind of explanation. He just saw her brimming with pride.

Okay, he thought, What the hell is going on?

Tanis was just as shocked as everyone else but he somehow managed to keep a passive look on his face as he returned to the council (it might have something to do with all those secrets he was so good at keeping). There was a point to this thing after all.

"Duly noted. And the full reason we have gathered here is because of Caius." Tanis paused; waiting for any other remarks. None were made.

"Good, Sonja would you take the floor?" He transitioned.

Sonja slowly sat up from her bench. Jasper felt the nervous air she gave off. As she was about to start walking to the center of the chamber, she stopped and looked back at Selene. Selene's eyes were just as wide as everyone else's. Sonja paused but flashed Selene an apologetic smile.

Jasper's head was starting to hurt. This was all so strange.

When Sonja finally made it to center stage, her body posture changed. Her back shot up and she thrust her head up as far as it dare go. She looked like a snake, ready to strike. And yet, there was no aggression in the action.

Jasper was going to read up on human physiology when he returned home, this was too interesting.

"My friends, and family, we have been gathered here today because of what Tanis mentioned; we are on the brink of war." Sonja paused. Nobody moved even the slightest bit.

Seeing this, she continued, "Not with the Lycans or even William this time. But rather with Caius and his henchmen."

Smaller gasps were taken in. A council member stood up from his seat; Shaulven, Jasper thought it was.

"And what, I pray, shall we do?" He asked.

Jasper noticed the Lycan smell more and more now. It was coming from the wall directly behind that Shaulven character.

Why would it do that? Jasper asked himself.

"I offer the idea that we raise all of the Elders for a Grand Council Chambers." Sonja answered.

There was no movement. The air had frozen and died. The stone gave up and nearly collapsed upon them.

Sonja wanted to raise the demon. They didn't care that the Elders had been leap-frogging through time for a millennia and she wanted to break that tradition; they cared that she wanted to raise Viktor.

The cruelest tyrant of all the Elders. Sonja had taken after him but today's event showed a softer side to her. Viktor had only two sides. A manipulative one and a wrathful one. He was feared deeper than Lucien.

And she wanted to wake him.

But she was their current Elder. This council meeting was just making sure the Death Dealer population was still able to obey that.

But no one, no one, would have agreed to this if not for the fact that the others would be raised as well.

It would be carried through, even before anyone could manage a reply to Sonja.

Shaulven took one step towards her.

"Milady, an excellent idea." He spoke.

All eyes turned to him.

Was he out of his mind? Jasper thought. He actually wanted to raise Viktor?

The stench of Lycan was rolling off the wall now, causing Jasper minor distress.

That really shouldn't be doing that. He thought.

Sonja did not respond to Shaulven for a while. Even when she did, it was barely a whisper, "It shall be done."

The stench was now nearing unbearable for Jasper.

Then it clicked.

"LYCAN!" Jasper roared at Shaulven.

All eyes flew to Shaulven, but he was gone.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!! Was all that was running, sprinting rather, through Seth's mind. Only a diamond vampire could pinpoint his smell so accurately. And he had thought that, given Sonja's stance on being seen in "public" with diamond vampires, there was no way that he could be identified. Then there she was, all confident, forgiving and having a diamond vampire by her side.

There was something horribly wrong with all of this. Seth managed to think between all the swearing happening in his head at the same time.

Seth tore off his robes and hid them down the hallways as he was sprinting through them, leading those following him off his trial while looking for some kind of a way out. The mansion had already gone into lock down and all the windows and doors were barred shut. So he ran to the only place he really knew.

His room.

He flew through the hallways for seemingly forever as the vampires closed in on his trial. He managed to shut the doors just as Kahn was turning the corner to the hallway that held his door.

Seth knew he was far from safe and needed to disguise his scent somehow.

His eyes first landed on the bathroom. He briefly thought about taking a shower.

No, that would only spread it. He thought, gasping for breath.

Then his eyes landed on the refrigerator.

Perfect.

He jumped to it and tore the door off. He grabbed every packet of blood and rushed to the bathroom annexed to his room. Hastily, he ripped every single packet he had open and threw it into the bath, spilling a lot. The marble floor accented the gore produced by his carelessness. But there was no time to be meticulous.

As soon as most of the blood was in the tub he stepped in. He grabbed the stuff by the handfuls and rubbed it all over his skin, covering up his scent.

Seth looked like some kind of serial psychopath killer from a horror movie. And before the blood had a chance to crack and mold to his skin, he took a towel and dried off the excess liquid. He sniffed his skin; pure human. There was a lot of human blood around a place like this; he'd fit right in.

Great, now I've just got to get out of here. He thought.

Slowly, Seth stepped out of the gory bathroom and headed to the main door of his room. Pressing his ear against the wood, he listened.

There was nothing besides a low hum of activity caused by his appearance. But that was no where near him.

Seth cracked the door open slightly. There was nothing there. He stepped out. Still nothing.

He turned left and walked down the hallway for a little while.

Then he heard footsteps approaching.

SHIT SHIT SHIT!! He screamed inside his head. He instinctually jumped up and caught onto the ceiling rafters. This was where he had avoided the last vampires that he had nearly run into. Seth hoped that luck would be on his side a second time.

Then he actually saw the vampire following him.

"Oh, shit." He said aloud. There was no point in hiding himself anymore. Because the vampire standing under him was none other than the diamond vampire who had been standing next to Sonja herself.

Sure enough, she looked directly at him and looked at him with the strangest look. But her second reaction was anything but unexpected. She bounded up to his hiding spot and tore him from his hold.

Seth thought she would have ripped his head off right there but instead she dragged him, by the hair, to a secluded room in a small wing of the building. He hadn't seen any vampires on their way there but he just thought that this vampire just didn't want to get the carpets stained with his blood.

She brought him to a dark room that was bright enough that he could still see but it was still horribly black. She threw him on the ground, angrily.

"Why did you come here?" She asked, not nicely.

"Screw it. To find out what you guys are planning for the big battle." He answered, less than kindly.

"Anything else?" Now the woman sounded annoyed.

Seth just laughed at her. He could feel her burning stare on his skin.

"What is so funny?"

Seth could hardly answer her, he was laughing too hard. "You sound so funny when you're angry."

Then she struck him across his face. That was going to hurt in the morning; if he survived until then.

That snapped him back into reality. Here he was, in a secret room in the Coven, caked in dried blood, naked and being interrogated by a less than happy diamond vampire.

"Now, why else are you here?" She sounded pleased that Seth now realized his place in this matter.

Seth didn't remember any other reason he was here, and then he did.

"Yeah, yeah. Something about Sonja meeting with him again, but that's probably strategizing against Caius." He shrugged. He might be in a miserable situation, but he wasn't going to be a submissive slave anymore. He was a Lycan.

He thought the woman was going to strike him again, but instead she extended a hand out to him; with a smile on her face.

Seth just laid there. "What the fuck is going on?" He was so confused. As with most everyone else in the Coven, he had no idea what was really happening.

The woman just smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Esme. And you are…"

Seth laid there some more, but brought his hand out to her.

Might as well go with it. He thought.

"Seth." He answered, neutrally.

"Well Seth, I'll be sure to tell Sonja about that." She answered, beaming for some unknown reason.

"Uh, Esme…was it, uh, what is going on?" Seth just wanted to clear some things up.

She smiled, no she out-right glowed. "I thought you just some scruffy dog. But you seem to have some purpose in this world after all."

Seth didn't move for a while. This was so strange.

But after that while, he shrugged. "You know, ma'am, I actually think you might be right."

Esme flashed Seth another glowing smile and took his hand.

"Come on, I'll get you out of here."

"That'd be great. Thank you so much." Seth's head hurt. What the hell was going on?

Trying just to go with it he let her take his hand and when she started to walk out of the dark room she mentioned sweetly, "Oh, don't you smell good."

Seth took that as a compliment.

Deep within the very bowels of the Coven, a dark hope flourished. That hope was in the form of a withered corpse for a father.


	7. The Blood of the Lambs

7. The Blood of the Lambs

Caius and Raze –

Harsh, austere walls enclosed a smothered Caius into a room not unlike Lucien's interrogation room. There was an array of test tubes, beakers and syringes that lay strew across sterilized tables. Every single one of them was filled with blood. Despite any mention from the back of Caius' throat, he refused their glistening, ruby temptation. Instead, he sat, stranded in a reality where time didn't pass; it lay, waiting, still as the marble emulating Caius' skin.

No air passed through his lungs, nor did it seem to move at all. Caius himself did nothing to break out of the immobile reality he was in. He actually preferred it. It made it easier to manage the engulfing burn in his throat.

So he sat, never once moving, never once even blinking. A fine layer of dust would have already settled upon his stone brow if not for the fact that the room he was currently situated in was completely and utterly sterilized. But _within _his body, it was bustling with activity.

Inside, he was on fire. His thoughts were racing, electricity was coursing through his sealed veins, and the never-fading hunger ate at his self control. But merely existing was becoming easier and easier for his calcifying form. Every moment he spent not moving, the farther from life he became. It took less and less for him to subdue his passionate rages, now they only happened after the liquid rubies dripped down his unquenchable throat and enriched his body.

But now, even though he hadn't felt the precious blood run down his throat in nearly a week, he was on the verge of a complete outburst. His horrible mood was affecting everything around him. The air itself felt stressed. It felt as though it was being squeezed, forced to hold its position. But Caius himself didn't feel a damn thing. He'd given up his senses to live in complete solitude, a life he felt compelled to live.

Friends, he thought, were for the weak. He was strong; the strongest, almost.

He was freed from his dismal thoughts when the door to his prison was dared to be opened by another vampire (Caius only considered his form of vampire to be legitimate, the Death Dealers were merely a starting ground for evolution. Like primates to humans). If it had been any one else, Caius would have ripped their head off so fast, the air around him might crack. But it was Aro, his most trusted companion; his brother. Caius was fond of Aro enough to not enact upon his instincts that held immediate, violent retaliation in such a high standard.

Aro himself realized that every little infarction he might make could be his last, but he also knew that Caius hated timidity and that if he was to be so bold, he was going to be audacious in his ways. He drew in unneeded breath as he inquired to his liege; to his master.

"Milord, how are things coming?" His voice did not waver, but there was always a warning light flashing in his mind whenever Caius was involved with…anything.

"Slowly…so, slowly…" Caius' own voice did not end, but trailed on forever; so much like his own existence. It sounded vacant and tragic; it sounded eternal.

Aro knew nothing of what his master was working on so diligently, but he knew better than to directly inquire.

"Milord, it has been long since you have last fed. What, I pray, is keeping you?"

The warning light within Aro's mind was blaring harsher than the hunger forever scratching his throat. But despite Caius' less-than-happy demeanor and his even worse mood, he treated Aro to a morsel of information regarding his latest project. He thought of it as giving a favored pet a treat after doing a trick.

"Oh, I am finally studying the reactions between the immortal blood-lines." He said, his voice taking on a smile; even though his face was hardly able to reveal any emotion he might feel now. Caius waited for Aro to bite.

Come on, come on… He coaxed in his mind.

Aro bit.

"With all due respect, Milord, haven't we already studied that?" He questioned.

But that was all Caius was willing to give him.

"Yes, but there are always mutations in the virus. Any day there might be such a mutation as my own. And it is our job to make sure they aren't a threat to Volteara." He stated, rehearsed as usual. Caius knew Aro wouldn't prod any further. For all the outward gestures and the "peace, brothers", Aro was only a figure-head to be seen by the rest of the world. Caius was the one who really called the shots.

"Well done, we should always be prepared for such an occurrence. But, how are you?" Aro tried to not sound like a master's favorite puppy; eager to please. But he failed miserably.

Caius, however, was more than willing to vent to Aro; only because if he didn't spew some of the venom pooling in his mouth, it might actually melt away part of his frozen face. All the brooding he did over the centuries made it very easy for his moods to change in the blink of an eye. He went from the amused master, to a sulking excuse for a leader amongst his people before Aro's fearful eyes.

"I do not understand this existence. Humans have it so easy. They find a "purpose", enact upon it, then die; they have it so easy. But I, I have to live year after god-damned year on this…disgusting piece of rock that I can carve with my bare hands. Having that power is wonderful, but it is not enough. It is never enough. And all this time I spend, sitting, waiting, I grow stronger and stronger…and weaker."

Caius paced back and forth through the room, effectively forgetting Aro was even there. Slowly, Caius was basically digging himself into another wallowing hole of self-pity.

"Don't think I can't feel the changes, the white hair was just a beginning. Every minute I sit completely still I can feel my skin mold together; my eyes film over, but my mind; that has never faded with time. No, that has stayed with me through all these centuries, in fact, I dare say, it has strengthened. I feel all the hours, all the days pile unto my wisdom as I wait for even greater epiphanies to come over me.

"And yet, I am tortured along with this great knowledge. First by the thirst, and second, by the boredom. While I might wait for these great thoughts, waiting is not a pastime worth extol. Everything seems quaint and mundane as I sit upon that _throne_." He waved dismissively in the direction of his throne room.

"When I am upon that piece of rock _called_ a throne, I do not feel what I should be. I feel as though I am the god's greatest joke. To be born by fire into a life of ice. Then to have the fire taunt me, both in the form of pain and pleasure, for is nothing greater than having blood running down your throat? And is nothing worse then hunger? Then be subjected to a life…no, an existence, for that is all this is, encased in ice."

Aro stood there, still as his master's castle, letting Caius take his wrath out in the forms of words; for there was another way he could, one he enjoyed far more.

"I have walked this earth, carrying my sufferings with me. I _must _be the laughing stock of the gods, all of them staring down upon me. A hero, trapped in the mortal realm. They shall see, when this is over I shall be more powerful than all of them combined." His rant ended on a final, certain note. There was no doubt in his mind that he would somehow become "all powerful". It didn't scare Aro though; he would always be seated at Caius' right hand. Markus was only a spy into the Coven. As soon as the war was over (even though it still needed to begin) he would be struck down like those before him.

The fire burned like a white poker down Caius' throat and in his eyes. Aro smiled internally; he would not fear Caius' infamous wrath for a very long time. But his rants were becoming more and more pointed. They were all about the power he didn't have.

Is this what you are working on so diligently? Aro questioned; never aloud though, he had already pushed it too far.

As Caius frustratedly returned to his lab chair he thrust his brow into the crook of his hand.

"Where can I find a meal?" His was hungry. And controlling himself against the eternal influence of his appetite was becoming harder with all the activity of releasing his anger. But there would always be more where they came from. Both the hunger and the rage were just a part of him as would his face or his fangs.

"Master, the humans are always ready to be served." Aro said with a banter (and a pun) in his voice. Caius raised himself from his lab seat and walked through his door and out to his throne room, where dozens of ecstatic "tourists" were anxiously awaited a special "visit" from one of the descendants of the long "dead" Caius the Tempered. He took one last look at all the blood in his lab and almost thought of having one of those instead.

Maybe one of those vials is the right one, he thought. But he still needed one of those vials to have William's blood too. Now was not the time.

The time of the lamb is never near. He thought, shutting the door that he had so recently opened.

* * *

Raze was doing another blood call. And the butcher shop was closed.

"Shit." He stated flatly. He wasn't angry, but there were only a couple of butcher shops that didn't ask many question when you ordered blood by the liters.

He slumped against the store front window. The air was cold against his chest; he had just ran into a couple Death Dealers and had to rip his nice shirt up.

He looked around him and into the city that he haunted day and night. It was a respectable place, in the right neighborhoods. But as soon as he made his way from uptown to downtown, things went down hill fast. Trash flew through the narrow streets like broken butterflies trying to float their way out of such desolation, stray dogs wandered around like ghosts, hardly aware of anything else beside them. The homeless population was actually very low because of such situations that Raze was now in; he didn't have blood. It was a necessary part of the immortals' existence as the top of the food chain and the society annexed from them hardly cared about those wandering the streets like the dogs who followed them.

He stared out of his own for a while before remembering the task at hand. He didn't have blood for the City (the unofficial name for the Lycan hideout) and he needed to get some. Looking back at the store front, Raze searched for any way in. A metal iron grate was the first line of defense to those in Raze's position. And he was sure there would be no alarm system.

A tired smile crept onto his face.

Feeling the Lycan inside him turn his eyes that murky blue hue; Raze grasped the metal grate and pulled it off its hinges with little resistance at all. Now there was only a simple door between him and his prize. But he had already torn that off before another second passed.

Raze was sorry that he wouldn't be able to show his face here anymore, there would be too many suspicions, and he particularly liked this butcher. His shop was always clean in the places were it needed to be.

There was a display case showing off all cuts of meat that you could imagine and behind that there was an actual metal cutting table that was always sterilized. The floor, on the other hand, was covered in dried blood and whatever people felt like dragging in.

Raze bypassed all of this and jumped over the counter and into the back room. Here there were the smocks that the owner's employee's wore; bleached and not a stain upon them. Raze went a little further into the bowels of the shop and found what he was looking for. There was a vat of animal blood that the owner probably only kept because of Raze's once-in-a-while visits.

Raze just grabbed the entire vat, tore it out of its holdings and carried right out the front door.

The City-

"Where the hell is Raze?" yelled Sam. He paced in a room not unlike Lucien's but it was messier and there were holes in the walls; letting steaks of moonlight glisten against his browned skin.

"He'll be back. He always comes back." murmured a woman from one of the places in his room that wasn't touched by any moonlight.

Sam kept pacing. The woman almost growled in aggravation and leapt onto Sam's back. She had the same auburn skin tone as Sam and looked like the face of danger. Her hand smashed Sam's face into the concrete floor while her hips did the same to the rest of his body. Everything around them and the City was concrete. Even the water tasted like the noxious mixture. Their only relief from the tedium of the City was blood. And its current chafer was late.

"I said; he'll be back! Stop pacing!" She yelled; still on top of him. Sam tried moving his head, but it was stuck between her hand and the concrete floor.

"God damn, Leah! You don't need to be such a bitch!" Sam roared back at her. Leah casually let go of Sam's head and got off his back. She strode around his room for dramatic effect before returning to her perch.

"Yeah, but I like it." She said in a seductive tone. "And you do to." She added, in the sexiest voice she could manage. And she had a VERY alluring voice.

Sam smiled at his mate. Leah was perfect for him. She was fast-paced, dangerous, and passionate. Sam was volatile but mature, deliberative, and enjoyed his share of violence but not to the level that Leah did.

"Maybe if you would spend a little more time over here," Sam points to the ground beside him, "then in your little corner, I wouldn't need to pace back and forth to pass the time." He said with a devilish grin on his face. All he heard was a small chuckle from Leah's perch before being assaulted by her passionate kisses smashed onto his lips.

That's gonna leave a mark… He thought before he was completely wrapped up in the woman his Leah was. He felt her everywhere, through his skin, on his tongue and in his soul. She was his, and he was her's. They were perfect as one. Things were getting quite heated and Sam was slipping his shirt off when a knock on the open door startled them.

Raze was standing there, not a drop of blood on him but he looked absolutely drained. Sam found it very strange that the second in command for how ever many centuries they had been in the City, was tired.

Leah and Sam did not break from their embrace; and Raze did not seem phased by this at all. He just took a labored breath and looked straight at them.

"If you want something to eat, you'd better hurry up." He stated flatly before sliding off the door pane and walking towards his quarters.

Sam and Leah looked at each other, gave their significant other a final kiss and nearly ran down to the makeshift mess hall. When they arrived, almost everyone had eaten and now they were just doing things to pass the time. Some were playing cards, talking or playing sports like football, hakiesack or from outside, you could hear the growls, snarls and other noises that those who were more into sparing than sports were making.

They walked over, hand in hand, to the blood vat and eagerly waited for their ration. But when they saw it was empty, Sam started snarling even louder than those outside. Leah was looking around to snatch up any underling's meal. Before they could draw a horrible amount of attention to themselves, another Lycan motioned for them to join him at his table. Sam tore himself from his now grumbling stomach; Leah was hoping that the newborn next to the seated man was still too horrified at his new diet to drink.

But as soon as they sat down, the Lycan produced two rations of blood from beneath the table. Before any pleasantries could be exchanged, both of them gulped down the satisfying liquid. When Sam was almost done with his cup, he scraped some of the blood off the bottom and rubbed onto Leah's waiting lips. She licked it up with a contented purr. The newborn next to their "dealer" was looking at them with horror etched everywhere on his face. Leah looked directly at him and smiled with blood-stained teeth.

"What?" She inquired with a haughty look on her face.

The new-born just looked down at his own cup and grimaced. Slowly he raised it to his lips, and finally allowed the liquid entry. His eyes widened in shock. He actually was enjoying the taste.

"That's right; you like it, too." Leah declared knowingly.

"Leah, don't scare the boy off. He hasn't even shifted yet. The full moon is tomorrow." The Lycan next to him defended.

Leah just exposed another blood red smile right at the guy. He shuddered.

"So, Jacob, who's this new-born?" Sam asked. Jacob looked at the new-born and turned back to Sam.

"His name's Michael. Lucien said he saw potential when you brought him in." Jacob answered.

Sam looked at Michael with curiosity. "This is the kid I brought in? He looks…bigger than I thought he would."

Michael looked up to the older Lycan, taken aback by the kind words. He thought that this shirt was just too tight, but apparently it showed off his muscles in the right places. Leah noticed that too; but she only saw Michael as another man. Sam was her knight in the night.

Jacob decided to strike up some small talk with the guy, "Hey, Michael,"

Michael shot his head up from his half-full cup of blood and looked at Jacob.

"Yeah?" Michael whispered, not sure of how to answer a Lycan.

"What do you think of the set up here? Keep in mind that Leah is mainly one of a kind." Leah scoffed and threw a punch at Jacob, which he playfully countered.

Michael thought for a little before he answered.

"It's alright but I think a few potted plants and a couple curtains might spruce the place up nicely."

There were a couple moments of awkward silence before Sam and Jacob burst out laughing and Leah nearly choked while drinking Michael's half-finished glass. Michael probably would have finished that glass, but Leah scared him enough that he really didn't want to say anything.

Jacob kept laughed so hard he hit the table with his fist and nearly broke it. Michael had no idea why he was suddenly so funny. Finally Sam got a hold of his breath.

"Ah, it's good to have some fresh meat in this place." He mentioned with a smile on his face. Michael smiled back, glad that not everyone in this place was as scary as Leah.

The four talked for a while longer before they were tired enough to make their way to bed. Jacob showed Michael the way to the barracks, where the new-borns stayed. Michael couldn't help but think this place was run more like a military base than a city. But he also thought that it was finally good to have some friends in this place. And they had told him that after his turning, he would be encouraged to return to his civilian life for as long as he wasn't the source of suspicion. Thing were turning out pretty much in his favor.

But he didn't have luck anymore. He had blood.


	8. Running Late

**Welcome back. Sorry for my hiatus. Enjoy.**

**Oh! If you were wondering or slightly confused, Markus from Underworld and Marcus from Twilight are one and the same.**

8. Running Late

There was little time for preparation. Little time for anything at all. Everything was rushing towards the finish line and falling apart at the same time. Caius sat comfortably on his stone throne waiting for time to pass with a small grin on his face. Lucien was also waiting for time to pass with an apprehensive look on his face and folded piece of paper in his hand. Meanwhile, Sonja paced back and forth in her room hoping a dark hope that the death of her uncle (once removed) would secure peace for the rest of the Coven, even though her own pursuit of happiness would be stifled.

What would make me happy? She thought hopelessly.

I can't have Lucien, even though we lov… no. I can't have Lucien.

A tear tripped out of her eye. Everything was falling apart. She was falling apart, the Coven was on the brink of a possibly uncontainable war and now her enemies were her allies and her family was the enemy.

A sick empty feeling held onto her chest like a lead weight. Her purpose as a Death Dealer had been fulfilling, enough. But now, there was nothing that even resembled a week ago. A week ago, her war was with the Lycans and she would be handing the torch off to Amelia in little less than a decade. Nothing was out of routine, nothing was too wrong, nothing was to be expected. Then this message from Lucien comes out of the blue to meet off Coven grounds. Sonja was amazed at his ability to sneak into her room, leave a message and then disappear without even being detected.

Then "Shaulven" managed to sneak in as well. Sonja would have cared more if her situation wasn't as dire as it was. She had to raise all of them. She had to raise three Elders, including her father.

She knew of his reputation. She knew it firsthand. He was always strict with her. Come to the Council meetings, don't go hunting in the summer (William awoke from his hibernation every summer), she'd done it all. Been the perfect little girl.

But never perfect enough.

She'd tried so hard. She'd given up Death Dealing for Viktor until the Elders began their leap frogging through time, she'd enforced law twice as hard as Viktor; she'd given up herself. And none of it meant anything. Instead of being a major player in this chess game, she was a pawn. A lowly pawn to be disposed of in the minds and hearts of her kind, her friends and even her family. She was nothing.

The tears came freely, everyone of them lessening the lead weight in her breast. The horrid freeing of drowning in her own skin.

This must be what dying feels like… Sonja thought. A sun was being born inside that lead weight and sunlight was flying through her system, burning away everything that she used to be. She always imagined seeing her first sunrise; seeing the delicate pinks and yellows, feeling the gentle rays touch her skin; gradually feeling herself turn to ash.

But the Coven needed an Elder and the only time Sonja might be able to experience that first sunrise was in those few hours when she raised Amelia and Sonja was set back into her own sarcophagus. And those ceremonies were only conducted in the middle of the night so the newly raised Elder was able to have an entire day of rest.

She would never have her sunrise. She would never have her comfort of natural life. She only had the crushing weight in her chest to hold on to. The only static object in her life was the suffocation, the inability to move, the revulsion of herself trapped within her own skin.

Until, no… Dear god, save my… She tried to pray, to cry to some higher power but, only the emptiness answered. Her heavenly father came in the form of the only father figure she had. And he was less than a role model when it came to morality.

Everything was falling apart, so slowly that it seemed that everything was falling into place.

I can't even hold myself together, how have I been running this Coven? Sonja thought through her tears. Where the hell is Esme?

Something had happened to Sonja, some memory that finally released this crippling pain. And maybe it was the hormones coursing through her failing system or the impending Grand Council meeting or…Lucien.

Lucien was there at the beginning and whether he will be at the end is all up to the means for it.

But she had made up her mind. She would raise Amelia, Markus and Viktor, her father. She would finish what Caius had started and hopefully emerge alive.

Sonja picked herself off her bed and ghosted to her window. A whisper of life wafted into her bedroom as the rest humanity slept comfortably with their warm beds and warm hearts. She smelled the night air, feeling it engulf her and hold her; maybe the one thing that would forever be there for her.

Esme had a life; a husband, a son. Even Selene had a purpose; kill any Lycan that dare step in her path. Her father…he was never close, and they never spoke anymore considering he was six-feet under whenever she wasn't.

Why couldn't I be with Lucien? Sonja thought angrily. I'm the Elder now! Once this duel is over, we could be together…

But it was all for not. There was not only a family divide separating them, they were at odds on a cellular level. Sonja knew first hand the pain of exposure to Lycan blood. It was like pouring alcohol onto an open wound. Except the blood ate away any piece of vampire it could, all the way down to bone. And experimenting on diamond vampires was nearly impossible because their skin couldn't be penetrated by anything softer than diamond vampire bone.

It was like a fairy tale gone horribly, horribly wrong. The vampires and the werewolves were the main characters while the humans were the insignificant animals. And any mention of love between the two was worse than heresy; it was against the very fiber of their being. Anyone unfortunate enough to succumb to such a fate would be entirely ostracized from the Coven or The Pack (as the Lycans called themselves).

And Sonja was an Elder. No vampire would even speak her name ever again. She would be entirely stripped from the history books. Only those who remembered her would even know she used to exist.

Turning back from the window was almost symbolically turning her back from freedom. She would be Sonja the Elder, Sonja the Warrior, Sonja the…nearly human. She had never felt this way since she was a small, small child. She felt so helpless. It was like her back was in a corner with no wall to lean on. There was no taking sides. There were only limitless choices.

She could run, be with Lucien, but sacrifice her Coven to Caius. She could fight, turn her back on the man she lov…, but save the Coven, or just run away alone and let the chaos destroy them all.

She had never felt so trapped.

Sonja had felt so good, so confident at the last Council meeting.

What happened? She questioned.

One moment she is finally feeling herself and then… Her life flips upside down.

Viktor…

It was the only answer. Her father.

Maybe I could raise only two of the Elders. Caius has always been an issue; we've dealt with him before…

No. It wouldn't work. It was all or nothing now. And by nothing, there wouldn't even be a Coven. There might not even be immortals.

There had always been immortals. That's why they're immortal. They would and always will be.

But there was always something wrong with the world. Maybe there would be a better world if immortals didn't exist.

"But I don't want to die…" Sonja whispered. She was so tired, so drained and she would have to start the Awakenings tomorrow. She just wanted to fall asleep and somehow wake up in her sarcophagus.

Then something changed. The air was stiffer, the moon was darker and the world was too quiet outside her window.

"God dammit! Leave me alone!" She cried softly enough to not rouse anyone who gave up the search for that elusive Shaulven. It had been too long a day for more people to make any more unwanted visits.

"That's it; I'm going to sleep." She murmured.

Merely glancing over to her boutique, she noticed a single piece of folded paper that was obviously not there before.

Curious but not necessarily surprised, Sonja walked over to the boutique, slid the paper into her open palm and carefully opened it. The handwriting was thick and almost scrawled.

_**In case my messenger was unable to deliver my invitation, I give unto you a second copy that, hopefully, will reach its intended. **_

_**I must speak with you again. My informants have recently acquired intelligence that might be of use to you. **_

_**Please accept my request and come to our previous meeting grounds the day after tomorrow. **_

_**Lucien**_

Sonja's heart fluttered. That stupid Lycan. He sent Shaulven (or who ever he really was) into the lair of the beast just to get to me.

Suddenly, the lead weight inside her was a bird soaring to that fabled sunrise. A huge smile plastered itself onto Sonja's face.

"Lucien…" She whispered.

"What is with you and that dog?" A voice suddenly spat behind her.

Sonja gasped as she twirled around to face her intruder. An enraged Selene greeted her.

"If you weren't an Elder, I'd raise Viktor myself and show him what you've become." Her voice was soaked in acid.

All the blood in Sonja's face drained away.

"You wouldn't." Sonja stammered, hardly comprehending that she would have to raise him anyways.

"I don't think you should have a say in what I will and won't do anymore…" Selene finished with a betrayed look on her face. That bird in place of Sonja's lead weight caught on dreadful fire from a burning sun and returned to its previous form as a burden to whoever carried it.

Several uneasy minutes passed between them. Selene's face growing colder and colder with each tear that silently fell down Sonja's weary face.

"I remember the days when you were the fiercest warrior there was. Faster, stronger and better with a blade than any of us. And you still are. But now you probably wouldn't even lay a finger on your precious Lycans."

Sonja's lead weight was becoming physically painful. Her arms tugged at the rest of her once sturdy frame. Her eyes burnt from the tears and now this. She was already made a mockery of by a once close friend. A sister even.

"Sister…"

"Don't even think of calling me that anymore! You are not even worthy to be an Elder, much less my sister." Selene spat. You could see the pain in both of their eyes.

"What can I be then?! Do you understand what is happening! This is not just about the Lycans anymore. We are dealing with those who understand us better than ourselves! They know how we work, how we move, how we plan and even how we think! Now I have to either offer a hand of allegiance to those "precious Lycans" or we can all drown in each other's blood. Now who or what should I be?

"This is not about being solely a warrior; this is about being a leader. And I will not be mocked by someone who does not understand that!"

Sonja could hardly hold her head up after letting all that out. She was so tired of everything.

Selene couldn't hold her head up either. Sonja had a point. Selene was only a foot soldier, a damn good one, but a foot soldier none the less.

"So what are you going to do now?" Selene asked, greatly subdued.

"Raise the Elders."

"Has the Council agreed?"

"Yes…" Sonja finished, completely spent.

"What an awful day." Selene commented.

"Terrible."

And at that, Selene walked out of Sonja's room, shutting the door behind her carefully.

Sonja collapsed onto her bedspread, falling asleep before she even hit the sheets.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Her alarm almost woke her up. Sonja was very comfortable in her nest of tangled blankets and was just going to laze the day away. Then Esme got her out of bed, again.

"Sonja! It's nearly eight! You've got to be downstairs in an hour!"

That woke Sonja up.

"What?" She gasped.

"You said you would raise the Elders! Come on! You've got to start early since there are three of them this year." Esme was always too happy in the evening since she never had to sleep anyways.

But she was right. Sonja had to raise three Elders, not just the usual one.

Groggily, Sonja was just going to roll out of bed like she usually did. But her foot caught on some of the sheets and sent her usually graceful maneuver straight into the floor.

"Sonja, that floor is fast becoming your best friend. Come on; let's get you ready for the big day."

Inside, her stomach was twisting, turning and training to be Olympic gymnast.

What have I agreed to do? Sonja was having severe cold feet. Any moment now they would freeze to her floor.

Despair was engulfing Sonja. But she had no choice. She had to save the Coven, she had to do this, and it was the right thing to do.

I think… She thought, dreading staying awake for one more moment.

Esme could easily see Sonja's black turmoil as easily as she could the moon slowly rising, beckoning the vampires to wake. Carefully moving towards the motionless Sonja, Esme put her hands on Sonja's drooped shoulders.

"It's okay. I'll help you through this, my child."

Sonja's eyes widened tenfold. Memories of her father surged through her. She could hear his smooth voice as if he were already raised.

"My child, come. We have a war to win…" He spoke with a fiendish grin, holding his hand out to her. The very ground he stood upon was soaked with Lycan blood. And she took his hand. She took everything he gave her; love, power and lies.

He said those words nearly a thousand years ago and they were still at "war". Now an even more dangerous war was about to be unleashed. And all he could really give her were lies. Sonja was sure he loved her, but it was…incomplete. It always felt like something was missing. Like she was just another chess piece; maybe a bishop or a rook, but nothing that couldn't be sacrificed.

Sonja turned to Esme, pain pouring out of her eyes. Esme stared gaping at a sight she thought she would never see. Sonja never showed this side of herself, it was buried so deeply within her, it would take something life changing to dredge it out.

And something had. God knows what did. One of the most probable culprits was Lucien; however, Viktor was always a candidate. Viktor would always be a candidate, even if he never rose again.

"Don't make me do this Esme…" Sonja pleaded, not even talking directly to Esme.

Esme just stared at what Sonja had become.

The strong, yet tyrannical, Sonja had been reduced to that scared little child again.

Was that a good thing? She might be on the path to finding herself, but… Does it need to be this drastic? Esme couldn't believe what her eyes were showing her.

Sonja couldn't either. She'd actually rendered Esme speechless. But Esme recovered quickly.

"Sonja, this is the right thing to do. But you don't need to raise them all yourself. Maybe Markus would be willing to raise him for you?" She tried to reason.

Sonja knew this was the best course of action, even though it was only delaying the inevitable.

Doubts and fears about her father still twirled around her, making her lightheaded.

Why am I so hesitant to raise my own father? Don't I love him?

Sonja knew every answer to her every question. But even in her own head, she refused to listen to any of them. In the end, ignorance was bliss. Or just a small taste of what bliss might be.

Totally animated, Sonja went through her morning routine of showering, changing and a little syringe of blood for breakfast/dinner. Her thoughts were centered around trivial things; how wrinkled her clothes were, was there a new chip in the woodwork?, how the color of her burgundy coat accented her very pale skin. Small, meaningless thoughts.

But they quickly returned to the task at hand. Especially when her hand touched the cold metal of her bedroom door. Cold like the feeling of slowly dying every time she stepped into that velvet lined coffin.

"Thank you, Esme. I'll raise Amelia, then Markus. Hopefully, he'll raise Father…" Sonja's voice faded away into nothingness as she made her way down to the Chamber of Elders. Esme dutifully followed her adoptive daughter as she made her way further and further into the catacombs leading to the chamber.

Esme found it fascinating how every step Sonja took, her back looked straighter, her head was held higher, her shoulders slumped less and how her stoic mask was etched deeper and deeper into her face. The act she had put on all these years wasn't an act anymore; it was the default for her every action. It was as if her true self was always held on hold and now she couldn't even find who she used to be.

By the time they had reached the Chambers, Sonja was seemingly back to normal and perfectly fit to raise Amelia.

Sonja took every cold step to Amelia's sarcophagus with an once of dread. Everything she did was all leading to her less then eager reunion with her somewhat-estranged father. But she couldn't have all these muddled thoughts in her head when she preformed the ritual of Awakening. Her thoughts needed to be ordered and sequential. Now there was only a jumbled mess where her mind used to reside. The past few days bled together like a water color painting in dark monotone, speckled with bright little glimpses of happiness and even…love.

One step closer, two step, three, closer…

Then she was there. Sonja stood looking down at the metal A in the floor. Kneeling down (closer) she reached out and pulled at the middle line of A, setting off a series of contraptions that would ultimately bring the sarcophagus to the surface (so close).

Sonja closed her eyes. She forced the tsunami of doubts and emotions down inside her, hoping it would stay controlled for as long as it could.

Finally, Amelia's sarcophagus appeared out of the earth, a cold marble earth, and Sonja couldn't wait for this to be over.

Sonja pried the sarcophagus open and stared into the preserved face of another one of her foster mothers.

She sighed as she brought her wrist up to her mouth. Sonja didn't dare let her vampire out; her limited tranquility might actually break if she even tried. She broke the skin using brute force, trying her, but it was easier to control her pain to focus on the temporary physical side of it then the inconsolable emotional side of it.

She felt the iron rich blood flow into her mouth. Usually, Sonja would have the smallest experience of euphoria whenever blood hit her tongue; but not today. Today it tasted like smoke from the fire of a burning body and the bittersweet taste of death.

So she let it flow into the mouth of someone who might actually appreciate the gift of stolen life.

The blood was like a soothing salve to Amelia's long parched throat. It wasn't as sweet as it usually was, but it was fuller…better for some reason. Amelia really just wanted to sleep for a while longer but she had a duty as an Elder to fulfill.

Sonja waited for Amelia's pitch-black, starved eyes to open so she could fill them with all that had happened in the past century. She waited while her currently safe sea of calmness churned and chopped.

Then the demonic eyes, the true vampire ones, the ones that were too tired to cover up what they really were, opened.

Sonja nearly sighed in relief. Instead she took Amelia's face into her hands and concentrated on those midnight eyes. Concentrated on filling them with everything they needed to know.

Amelia waited for Sonja's update. It was taking longer than it usually did. That severely unnerved Amelia; Sonja never faltered, never doubted herself, never had that look in her eyes.

Then, slowly, a stream of memories and thoughts shaped themselves into trains and flowed like they should.

There was a quick walkthrough of the last ninety years then more explicit memories formulated and solidified.

Amelia could smell a damp, musty smell. She could see a dark room with moonlight as the only light source streaming from a window. Or was that just a hole in the wall?

What are these memories? What happened to Sonja? Amelia kept becoming more and more perturbed by Sonja's strange Awakening.

Then there was a man. And fear?

Sonja was afraid? Amelia did not like this.

Then the memory skipped forward.

"Can I trust you, Lucien?" Sonja asked, not needing an answer.

Lucien!? WHAT IS GOING ON?!! Amelia screamed inside her head, knowing it was far too early to attempt speech.

Then Lucien lunged, grabbing her arm.

"No! You don't understand! Caius wants to overthrow the Coven!" Lucien sounded just as scared as Amelia or Sonja was.

Oh, god… Amelia thought darkly, loosing her reason to live.

Then the thoughts changed memories.

"So what are you going to do now?" Selene asked.

"Raise the Elders."

"Has the Council agreed?"

"Yes…" Sonja finished.

"What an awful day." Selene commented.

"Terrible."

And with that, all the memories faded away. Sonja withdrew her hands from Amelia's face and started preparing the blood bags for Amelia.

Amelia waited for days, hours, years, seconds…it didn't matter anymore. Caius got what he wanted. He always got what he wanted.

He got rid of me… Amelia reminisced.

But before Amelia could dredge up anymore memories about the Diamond Prince, Sonja was back and lifting her out of her sarcophagus. Amelia tried to stand on her own but felt a horrible weakness throughout her entire body. She had slept for a long time and right now she needed blood.

A mixture of gratitude and disgust ran through her system as Sonja inserted the IV's into her arms, back and sides. She immediately felt better; the blood was rejuvenating her emaciated body and restoring her vampire senses.

But when Sonja put Amelia's cloak on to cover her, memories she had ignored during the Awakening resurfaced.

There was so much…pain…?

Pain? Amelia really wanted to return to her sarcophagus and wake up and find that this was just a strange coma dream.

Never had Sonja doubted herself, never had Amelia experienced so much from an Awakening, never had both Esme and Amelia been so worried about Sonja.

Amelia had never had a daughter and Sonja never had a mother. So they filled the gaps in each other's lives and they never looked back.

"I'll come back tomorrow to check on you and answer any of your questions." Sonja stated as she headed out the Chamber.

Both women watched their adopted daughter glide out of sight.

"Even the way she walks has changed…" Esme commented.

Amelia felt the blood course through her reanimated veins and decided to try talking.

"What happened?" Amelia asked in the hoarsest voice ever heard.

"She grew up… our little girl…" Esme whispered to the very core of the earth.

Amelia was worse than worried. She was scared. She and Esme were the closest thing Sonja had to family, and they couldn't do a thing. They felt so helpless.

Even the way she moved was different, like there was nothing where her heart once was.

Esme was suddenly concerned that Sonja might fade into nothingness herself.

**Oh, Quina, I've decided that you do fail. You totally should have joined Marching Band. Now you'll just be a band dropout that never got to experience the complete nerdiness of marching while playing a saxaflute. =) **

**P.S. We get to play Sweet Caroline!**


End file.
